


Eat You Alive

by ollie_oxen_free



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, I know what the title says, Multi, Papyrus Needs A Better Job, also this is not a vore fic, at least in some aspects, bc i like the dynamic, but trust me, dab on the haters, did i mention im uncreative?, drug dependancy, i dont want to put this but honestly?, i lack artistic integrity, i love this ship please love it with me, injuries, its not, please dont get mad at me if i wax poetic one second and then switch to memes, slim cant take care of himself, specific warnings with be in needed chapters, surprise surprise, there might be some spicyhoney action, um, unhealthy relationship, when i say slim cant take care of himself i mean SLIM CANT TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:33:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_oxen_free/pseuds/ollie_oxen_free
Summary: slim can't take care of himself. papyrus wants to help. this, of course, ends spectacularly





	1. someone get this man an ice pack

**Author's Note:**

> here's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yL0RzgUpGjk)
> 
> finally decided to bother to start posting this story! i care about it very much so i actually will be finishing this one, i swear. fucking wild man.

The sun was just starting to set as Papyrus sat in the sill of their front window, the light coming through the glass warming his back and making him sigh in contentment. He lifted his hand, holding it in the light as he turned it slowly, warmth filtering through his gloved fingers, casting a shadow on the floor. He turned his wrist. Particles of dust that were drifting in the air started at the movement, chasing after his hand.

His fingers twitched as the setting was broken once more by the loud shouts and flashing cameras from just outside of their home. He glanced back over his shoulder at the camera-wielding humans that lined the sidewalk outside of their house, the flashes decorating the spaces between the fence out front like the gyftmas lights that they kept hung from their roof. His ribcage expanded as he took in a slow breath, his hand dropping back to his lap as he let the dust settle back into its slow dance. He sighed as he stood, taking a step from the window before pausing, turning back and drawing the blinds.

It wasn’t entirely because of the humans, he told himself. Some of it was that if he relaxed for too long, even on his days off from being the monster ambassador, meant risking Sans walking in and seeing him lazing about. Just the thought of the excess of puns and the teasing of him being a ‘lazybones’ made him shudder.

So he stood, walking away from the window and the warmth and the flashing cameras to do… what, exactly? The house was clean, and though he could start on dinner, it would be cold by the time Sans got home from his hotdog stand. Papyrus grumbled at the lack of things to do. He almost hated his days off whenever  _ this _ was an issue.

He started towards the stairs, socked feet padding quietly on the carpet. There weren’t many days that he got off due to the busy schedule as the mascot of monsters- all lowercase, not capital, since it was mostly a joke anyhow- and the times that he wasn’t attending some important meeting or smiling for a photo with Frisk in front of the embassy, cameras facing them at every angle, were few and far between.

The attention was enjoyable, of course, but even so there were times when it became too much.

And then there were times like now when it was far too little.

He entered his room, shaking the thoughts from his head as he made his way over to his battle figures, adjusting their poses and the tiny, plastic weapons with a careful hand.

Even that grew tiring after a while, and there was only so much he could adjust when he was already satisfied with their positioning. His eyes drifted down a shelf, landing on the large pile of letters from his new job, all addressed to himself.

He picked up the stack, turning it over in his hands before he shrugged and carried them over to his desk, setting them down on the wooden surface before he grabbed a small stack of notebook paper and a pen to answer. 

It was an activity that killed time, tearing open letters and tossing the ones that were threats and insults (a vast majority of them) in the trash and reading over the fanmail and the questions embedded in the words. One that he opened was written in crayon, words misspelt with random capitalizations strewn about the page.

Papyrus grinned as he read over it. The letters from the smaller humans were always so much more enjoyable. He smoothed out the poorly folded construction paper, picking up his pen and answering their questions. Yes, he was a real skeleton, but he could drink water! His favorite bug was probably a firefly since the way that they could light up was rather cool, much like himself. No, he wasn’t a superhero, but he was glad that they liked his battle body! Sans, his brother, had made it for him by hand, making sure that it matched his scarf, and it was one of his favorite things that he brought up from the underground with him!

He wrote until the page was filled and his hand was starting to cramp before he sat back with a satisfied sigh, smiling as he looked down at the paper. Grabbing an envelope, he folded his letter neatly before placing it inside, licking the seal with a wince before addressing it. The stamp was placed neatly on the corner before he set it off to the side.

He was reaching out to grab another letter when he heard his phone ring, buzzing against the desk. He frowned as he looked down at it. Frisk much preferred to text him, and if it were Undyne or Alphys then he would have gotten the notification from Undernet long before they actually called him.

He picked it up, looking at the caller with slight shock before answering. “...Slim?”

“Papyrus!” He shouted. Papyrus winced before shaking his head, pushing back from the desk and standing.

His steps were quiet as he paced the length of his room. “That’s my name, yes.” His eyes narrowed as he made out the distant thud of footsteps and the sound of heavy breathing coming through the receiver. “Are you… running?”

“No,” the other said, his panting proving just the opposite, “I’m Slim.”

Papyrus fought down a grumble, the worry in his chest making it impossible to be too annoyed anyways. Slim? Exercising? “Are you okay?”

“Physically? Been better. Mentally?” He laughed instead of finishing his own comparison, gulping down breaths of air. Amidst a few curses and complaints of the horrors of physical activity, he heard the footsteps slow. “Would ya be fine if I came over to your place?”

He tensed, looking around his room, before nodding, though Slim couldn’t see him. “Yes, but-”

His question was cut off by more laughter. “Great! I’m comin’ in!”

The call clicked, signifying the end, and Papyrus stared at the device in confusion before he hurried downstairs, moving to the window and pulling aside the blinds to peer outside. Among the cameras dotting the fence he saw a very familiar figure trying to pull himself over the fence, despite the gate being only a few feet to the side. With a tired exasperation, Papyrus watched as Slim succeeded in getting himself on top of the fence, only to lose his balance and land heavily in the yard. He laid there for a few moments before he sat up, giving the cameras now pointed at him a confident thumbs-up as he stood and trotted up to the door.

Papyrus unlocked it just in time for Slim to enter, shutting the door behind himself with his foot and taking a few steps inside. He watched the other as he reached down to his boots, grabbing one while still standing and hopping around as he tried to remove it. It came off easily enough, the other, tattered shoe landing beside it soon after. He stared at the discarded pair for a few moments before he walked over, adjusting them so they were both resting upright. That done, he turned to Slim, looking over his grin and the drops of sweat that were rolling down his skull.

He crossed his arms. “Why were you running?”

“I love that vine.” Slim swiped a hand down his face, smearing the droplets of sweat with the dirt that was still on him from the fall. The other made a face at his hand, looking around the room before just wiping it on the front of his shirt. Papyrus frowned at the action.

“What? A guy can’t just go for a run?”

His fingers drummed in a quick succession on his upper arm, jaw tightening as he tried to come up with a way to say that yes, a  _ guy _ could, but that Slim was the kind of person who would beg for someone to grab the TV remote for him just so he didn’t have to move his arm a foot and a half to the left.

The remark died on his tongue when Slim took his jacket off, the bones slowly being revealed from the coat covered in old, stained bandages. Spots on the wrap were wet with fresh blood, but a majority of it appeared cracked and dry, somehow more old blood than new. A panicked, shocked sort of noise bubbled up in his throat as the jacket was tossed to the side.

The bandages circled beneath the thin tank the other wore, the worn shirt doing little to hide the bulk of the wrap. Papyrus had missed it before, but Slim was leaning to the side slightly, wincing as his ribs expanded like it hurt him to breathe.

“Would ya mind if I borrowed some food?”

He clenched his hands before he nodded wordlessly, making his way into the kitchen and grabbing a handful of monster candy from the jar on the counter. Taking so many at once was shameful, but he would feel even more like scum of the earth if he didn’t try to help the other as much as possible.

The small first aid kit was kept under the sink, for easy access, just to the side of the piles of bones and grocery sacks that Sans likes to hoard. He snatched it up before moving back into the living room to see Slim sitting on the floor, a chair having been dragged from the table to sit just behind him. The other had a cigarette in his mouth and was gnawing on the filter, lighter in his hand flicking on and off unconsciously, but never coming up to light.

It was almost routine, at this point.

He handed the candy off to Slim quietly, the other, grinning wide as he let the cig fall from his mouth to his lap, unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth. Papyrus held the kit closer to his chest, foot kicking the chair away so he could kneel behind the other.

“Could you take off your shirt please?” Slim shot him a look over his shoulder, disbelieving and untrusting. Papyrus frowned. “I won’t heal anything. I just want to give you fresh bandages.”

He held up the rolls of gauze and tape as proof, and Slim looked from the items in his hand, to the alcohol wipes on the ground, to him, before humming around the candy in his mouth, reaching up and tugging his shirt over his head.

Papyrus waited until he tossed it to the side with his jacket, trying not to be overwhelmed at the sheer number of injuries that had to be covered, before he took a breath to steel himself and reached out to where one end of the bandage was tucked in, starting to unravel it. The bandage stuck to the injuries as he pulled it away, cracking as it was bent and making him wince. Fresh marrow bubbled from the worst of the cracks, though he waited until he’d removed the rest of the stiff bandage to grab the wipes.

He sucked in a breath. “Alright.” Holding up the package so that Slim could see what he was doing, he grabbed a wipe. “This is going to hurt.”

Slim laughed at his warning. “Well, I’m actually into pain so it’s f- FUCK!”

The other tensed, nearly jerking away as he gently swiped down the worst of the cracks, the wipes quickly becoming stained with marrow. The worst of the cracks were across the back of his ribs, spread across the bone like a spiderweb. There were a few places where the bone was blistered and charred, like the injuries had been poorly cauterized.

He fought down the instinct to bring healing magic to his command, the influx of compassion and pity and the need to  _ help _ hitting hard before he forced himself to calm. Slim hated healing magic, and as much as it would help- even if only to soothe the pain- he would respect those wishes.

Pulling out another wipe, he continued to gently clean the injuries over his shoulders and spine.

Using healing magic would only keep Slim from ever trusting him again. He’d gone to Underswap once in much the same state before, getting bandages and food, and despite his refusal of it, Blue had tried to heal Slim as he slept on their couch. Slim had jumped as soon as the magic hit him, launching off the couch and growling as magic sparked and flared in his sockets.

And then he’d seemed to catch himself in realization, magic calming down, and with a face that was far too calm, too blank to be Slim, he’d walked to the door, grabbing his jacket with one hand and swinging it over his shoulder with a practiced ease that was almost too graceful for him.

Slim didn’t go to Underswap anymore.

Papyrus set the wipes to the side with a sigh, pulling out a pad of gauze and placing it over one of the worst cracks across the length of a rib. The rest went on much the same, Papyrus wrapping bandages around a few of the breaks so they would heal right and not crooked like a few of the raised ridges across his body. Papyrus refused to let his mind wander, shaking the thoughts from his head as he focused on cleaning up.

A harsh rap against the door drew him from his task, setting down the soiled bandages and wipes as he moved a step towards the door. Slim cursed from somewhere behind him, and Papyrus turned with a question on the tip of his tongue to see the other scrambling up, wincing as he jostled his injuries, snatching up both his shirt and jacket before rushing into the kitchen, diving around the corner.

Papyrus blinked at the other’s sudden nerves, glancing where he’d disappeared before continuing his path to the door. Something almost angry settled in his chest before he pushed it back down, breathing out before pulling open the door.

As he’d expected, Razz was standing just outside the door, posture stiff and at attention just like so many of the guards were during celebrations and ceremonies. He forced a grin, knowing that it looked as off as it felt but certain that Razz didn’t care either way. 

“Hello, Razz!” It was fake joy he greeted him with. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

If the other was bothered by his statements then he didn’t let it show. “Where’s my brother.”

“Can you not find him?” Feigning innocence was easy.

The corners of the other’s sockets tightened minutely. If the tell wasn’t the same as Fell’s when he was annoyed then he wouldn’t have even noticed. As it was, his frustration was glaringly obvious. “Clever.”

Cold, blue eyelights that had been pinning him drifted down, and Papyrus flicked his gaze over to see that the other was looking at the pile of bandages that were haphazardly scattered over the floor, fighting back a wince at being caught. The gaze traveled back to him, though he didn’t bother to meet it.

“Tell him to get his ass home once he’s done here.” With that he turned, making his way back down the sidewalk. A few flashes went off as he approached the gate but he didn’t react, walking through the small crowd that easily parted for him with hardly more than a blink. Papyrus watched only long enough for the flashes to turn back to him before he shut the door, leaning against it and swallowing once. He pushed back from the door after a moment, stooping to grab the bandages and wrap before padding his way to the kitchen.

His gaze landed on Slim, the other sitting against the wall, cigarette back in his mouth and shirt tugged on over the fresh bandages. The jacket was in a pile just beside him, the remaining candy sitting on top of it. The gold canines in Slim’s mouth warped and reflected the light in the kitchen. Papyrus stared at it as opposed to looking at Slim.

The other laughed, and in his peripheral Papyrus saw him flick on his lighter, passing the tops of his fingers through the flame fast enough that it didn’t burn him. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

He shrugged off the apology, glancing away from the dancing reflection. “Razz is just… intense,” he explained, and Slim was quiet for a moment before he snorted loudly. The thumb was removed from the fuel of the lighter, being shoved into the pocket of his discarded jacket beside the unlit cig.

“‘Intense’ is definitely a word for ‘im.” The reflection of light swept across the wall as Slim tilted his head, grinning wider. Both his legs were sticking out, spread apart, and the light moved again as Slim leaned forward to place both hands on the floor between his femurs. One hand came back up to his chest almost as soon as it touched the ground, splaying across his chest. “Personally, I prefer the term ‘asshole.’ Though occasionally I take some artistic liberties and throw in a ‘dicktwitch’ or two.”

Papyrus looked back out to the living room, at the cleared center of the floor. The gaze moved back to the bandages in his hands and he made a face at the material, feeling nausea rise in his soul before he forced it down. Slim, unaware or uncaring of his sickening worry, continued to sit in the corner, a candy wrapper in his hands as he enjoyed the healing treat. Papyrus could hear his soft humming of a familiar tune as he walked to the sink, grabbing one of the plastic bags stored underneath of it before tying it off and putting it in the trash can. That done, he turned to Slim, staring at the wall just beside him once more.

“Did… did Razz-?”

“No.” The answer was sharp and left no room for argument. Though he wanted to keep asking, he felt the obvious change in atmosphere the moment he implied the abuse.

And so he just nodded, accepting at face value what Slim had told him. Slim wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. They were friends. The best move was to continue away from the topic, to drop it entirely. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

He’d been planning on leftovers, of course, nothing special, but it was something that would keep Slim at their house for a while longer. An hour or so, at the very least. It was just to keep an eye on the other’s injuries is what he told himself, and if he didn’t devote too much thought to it then he could almost believe it.

Slim’s face brightened at the suggestion and he hopped up from the floor, trotting over to the stove and looking at him expectantly.

He breathed in slowly before smiling, making his way over to the fridge and pulling out the tupperware of quiches that the King’s beardless twin (though she preferred to be called “Toriel”) had prepared for them not too long ago. He knew they were packed with healing magic, infused in every bite. As he stood, Slim slid an arm between him and the fridge door, reaching in and plucking out a stick of butter. Papyrus sighed.

“We don’t need butter to heat these up.”

Slim unwrapped it anyways, clutching the stick in one hand while his other tried to snatch the tub away from Papyrus. He held it away, shutting the fridge door with his foot before making his way to the microwave. “Trust me,” he was saying, “I saw Paula Deen do this once. It’s valid!”

He plucked the stick of butter from his hands, giving him an annoyed look before setting it off to the side to put back in the fridge later. The quiches were separated onto a plate before he set them in the microwave, the harsh beeps seeming to echo beside the quiet hum of the air conditioning. The plate of food turned slowly as the microwave hummed to life, radiation pumping into the area as it heated the food, and after a few moments of watching the food make its slow turn around, thoughts moving through his head, he sighed.

“Look, Slim…” He trailed off. The microwave hummed. The food turned. “You make your own decisions, your own choices, which is great! But I… we all get so worried about you when you show up unannounced with injuries that we don’t know how you got, and when you just brush them off like they’re nothing.” He sighed. The quiches started to pop in the microwave, sizzling crackles in a cacophony that he knew as cooking. “I just-”

The air filled with the faint cracking noise of a teleport, a sound like the tearing of cardboard and breaking glass combined but muffled, and he turned to an empty kitchen and a yawning brother walking through the doorway, sockets slightly hooded and the smell of ozone and smoke trailing after him. Papyrus closed his mouth with a click, not realizing that he had it open in the first place, looking over to the side. A scribbled note was sitting on the counter, a few crumpled bills and a bag of what looked to be weed sitting on top of it, all resting beside the stick of butter that now had a bite taken out of it.

_ Thnx, _ the note read in the somehow both messy and neat scrawl that Slim wrote in. He paused long enough to hear the scrape of a chair as Sans pulled it out, plopping into the seat. Then he reached over and grabbed the money, putting it in his inventory to return later, and picking up the butter, note, and illegal drugs and dumping them in the trash.

Sans sniffed, crossing his arms on the table and pillowing his head on top of them, closing one socket while leaving the other cracked. “I guess Slim was here?”

The microwave beeped, and he opened the door, setting the quiches to the side before grabbing two plates, placing one on each. He carried them to the table, leaving the third one to cool alone on the counter, sitting and cooling, waiting until he finally threw it away. 

“He  _ was,” _ he said, not wanting to deny it but at the same time not wanting to really talk about it. 

He set the quiche down in front of Sans, watching his brother sit up and reach into his pocket, pulling out a handful of ketchup packets. Sans started to tear the corners of them off, squeezing the contents onto the plate. Worry was making his chest clench, ribs seeming to tighten unforgivably.

Sans set the last of the empty ketchup packets on the table and sighed, using the fork to scoop up solely the condiment and eat. “I won’t tell you what to do. Just. Be careful.”

Papyrus huffed. “Sans, I don’t need to be chided!” He poked aggressively at his quiche. Possibly more aggressively than was truly needed.

Sans chuckled softly, sending him a cheeky wink. “I was talkin’ condoms. Practice safe sex, bro.” He sputtered, denials and offended words spilling out of his mouth before he closed it, settling on groaning and burying his face in his hands. He peered between the fingers of his gloves, watching Sans laugh as he saw him attempt to cover his flushed face with his hands.

“Seriously, cover your wand before you delve into the chamber of secrets.”

“Sans.  _ Stop.” _ Part of him was almost glad that Slim had left- not really glad, though, more of a fleeting thought of relief from greater embarrassment- as the other being there would have resulted in more than a number of crude jokes about genitalia.

“I’ll stop when you promise to be careful,” Sans said, and though the slight trace of humor was still there from earlier, caution tinged his voice. Caution and worry. They all knew what Slim could be capable of if he were to snap, if something were to go wrong.

He sighed. There was no getting around it. “Alright. I promise to…” he trailed off before letting his hands drop to the table, eyes drifting down to the floor, “to wrap it  _ before _ I tap it.”

The crude phrase was worth the way that Sans doubled over, drops of ketchup dribbling down his chin as he laughed. “Geeze, bro.” He mimed wiping a tear away from his socket. “Good one.”

And beside the slight bit of amused, brotherly pride that always appeared whenever he made a joke or a pun was a tinge of worry, something that was off-color for the typical relaxed apathy in his gaze. He was worried about him, Papyrus knew, and though he wouldn’t overly voice his concerns the worry would stay. Sans worried about Papyrus, and Papyrus worried about Sans and everyone else he knew and cared about.

A certain version of himself included.

 


	2. alcohol isnt a drug, quote me on that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory "all the skeletons get together and hang out" chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings in this chapter
> 
> here's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPfUy4j9V7c)

The next few days were anything but interesting. Not that his job was boring, of course, as even with the repetitive actions of interviews and continuous camera flashes, there was something new in every day. The actions were the same, or similar, but new humans asked him different questions, he would hear different threats and compliments. Once, he had been giving autographs when a human had asked him to sign her arm. He’d complied, of course (she seemed kind enough, a pale green SOUL, and he’d had ruder and more violent requests), only for her to come back later that day and show him her forearm, the flesh around it puffy and red from where she’d gotten it permanently tattooed on her skin.

Fortunately, no humans had since shown him his name etched in their flesh, but  _ unfortunately, _ nothing of interest had happened.

Something  _ new _ everyday, yes, but nothing excitingly so.

When he shut the door at the end of the day after a long series of meetings with humans about expanding monsters in their legislation, he took a few moments to breathe, closing his sockets and enjoying the barely-there quiet, just beyond the occasional camera shutter that he could hear from outside.

And then he grinned, stepping back from the door and already planning the rest of his night. It was rare that their alternates would all have time off on the same day, but tonight everyone would be coming over. He would get to be around his friends without worrying about being the mascot of all monsters.

He slid off his boots, setting them beside the door before going around and picking up the living room. In the end he knew the appearance wouldn’t matter, as everyone would be far too occupied with catching up, but it would pass the time until everyone arrived. Sans teleported into the house not long after, strolling into the living room with a bottle of ketchup and a wink. 

“Seven seconds.”

He flopped onto the couch, popping the lid off of his ketchup. Papyrus looked at him in confusion before, a few seconds later, three harsh knocks sounded at the back door. He turned, ready to open it, when a teleport sounded, the lock turning a few moments later to let in their friends.

Red strolled in, hands slung in his pockets. He waved at Papyrus before turning to Sans, giving him a small nod. “‘Sup, fucker?”

Sans lifted a finger in recognition.

He chose to ignore the language for now.

Blue followed soon after, looking fairly tired, Fell and Stretch not far behind him, bickering as usual. They seemed to reach a conclusion, both turning and looking away from each other before Stretch brought his hand up, going to poke Fell in the face. The other smacked his hand away, starting a whole new round of arguing. Out of the corner of his sockets, Papyrus saw Sans swipe a coin that Red was handing him- another bet, no doubt- as Blue looked at them with exasperation.

There was nothing hateful about the arguing, of course. It had been when they’d first met, but over time it morphed more into their type of interaction as opposed to actual fighting. He knew that he could stop the scene by mentioning “sexual tension” (as they had done so  _ many _ times before), but there was something that made his SOUL warm in happiness seeing his friends getting along. All but one of them, of course.

His gaze trailed up to the clock on the wall, looking at the hands.

“So,” he looked back down as his brother started talking, interrupting himself with a yawn before continuing, “where we heading?”

“We could always just stay here,” Papyrus said, glancing up at the clock. 

Red hummed. “Gotta say, as, uh,  _ scintillating _ as that sounds, if I’m gonna go to a universe where I don’t gotta worry ‘bout getting shanked in an alley, then I’m gonna make the most of it. I vote getting shitfaced at Grillby’s.”

Papyrus frowned, watching as Sans gave a lazy thumbs up and Blue grinned. He looked over to Fell and Stretch, hoping that they would see the unspoken words in his sockets. Unfortunately, neither of them were paying attention to him.

“We are  _ not _ going to that grease-hole.” Fell crossed his arms, wrinkling his nose. 

Papyrus was relieved for a moment before he saw Stretch smirk in an all-too-familiar way. He swept out an arm, pushing Fell behind him as he took a step forward. “Well  _ I, _ for one, would  _ love _ to go to Grillby’s.”

Papyrus sighed. It really was too much to hope for, he supposed. Three against four, in the end, because though Slim loved being obnoxious as well, he would rather (in his own words) ‘be pounded with a rusty pipe than willingly go to Grillby’s’.

“Welp. It’s settled.” Red pushed himself up from the couch, making his way to the door. “See you fuckers there.” 

He flipped them off again, disappearing with a pop as he walked through the door. Fell muttered a few curses under his breath, hand coming up to pinch at his nasal ridge. The decision had been made.

Papyrus sighed, glancing back up at the clock, the second hand seeming to move even slower, like it knew he was watching. He felt a tap on his arm, turning to see Sans watching him, brow furrowed in concern. It looked as if Blue had already left with the other two Papyruses, leaving them alone. “You alright, bro?”

“Just waiting to see if Slim will come” he said, turning back to look at the clock. It was 8:15, though he was far from feeling anxious just yet. Slim had a wonderful habit of showing up exactly eighteen minutes late, bursting into the door at just an odd enough time to interrupt whatever had been started before he arrived. Being obnoxious is likely the reason why he did so.

It was silent for a few moments. He could feel Sans’s gaze on him. He cleared his throat, saying “Slim hates Grillby’s. To the point of non-tolerance. I don’t want him to come here just to see that we’re all gone.”

The familiar brush of Sans’s jacket came as he slung his hands in his pockets. “What if he doesn’t want to go to Grillb’s?”

Papyrus would be surprised if he did. “We’ll just see what happens. He’ll take it best from me!”

Another pregnant pause. Sans chuckled, dry but soft, turning towards the door. “Alright, bro. Lemme know what you guys decide, yeah?”

“Of course!” It was 8:17. There was, of course, a chance that Slim wouldn’t come at all. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he was certain that it wouldn’t be the last.

A laugh came again, followed by the creak of the door. “You’re the coolest, bro.”

“I know!” He said, the door shutting and muffling the sound of the teleport. The seconds ticked by but seemed to drag at the same time.

And then it was 8:18 and there was no sign of Slim. Papyrus sighed, though it was for the best since the Sanses would be far too intoxicated to safely teleport anyone anywhere! (He was disappointed. Disappointed and worried, because Slim had sent a text saying that he would be there ‘right off time,’ though it wouldn’t be the first time that he had said so without bothering to show up.)

There was a clatter at the back door, scratching and thudding and almost panicked, and Papyrus felt his sockets widen before the door swung open, Slim clutching the doorknob with a lopsided grin on his face. Shadows were being thrown in multiple colors on his face from the light-up shoes he had on his feet, white and flashing. 

“The party has fucking arrived!” He slammed the door shut with his heel, walking past Papyrus with his arms outstretched, coming into contact with an empty living room and seeming to process the scene for a moment. He turned, arms still outstretched. “Where the hell is the party?”

Papyrus almost rolled his eyes but realized that a more gentle approach was likely needed. “Everyone decided on Grillby’s.”

That… likely wasn’t gentle enough.

Slim stiffened- only minutely, barely even noticeable- before he laughed nervously, arms flopping down at his sides. “Alright! Sounds great!” He slapped his palm against his thigh a few times, taking a step towards the door. He stopped after a moment, looking back over his shoulder. “There are drugs there, right?”

Papyrus blinked, shifting between his feet. “Technically? Yes, but-”

“Great!” Slim seemed to cheer up immediately, something excited and self-destructive flickering in his gaze. He grinned, lopsided, grabbing his hood and pulling it over his skull. “I bet a blow job I can Nauruto run there faster than you can drive.”

Before Papyrus could agree or disagree to the terms- not that he  _ would _ have agreed, of course, not over a bet that had to do with an anime, and it wasn’t like he was thinking about it at the moment either in any way, shape, or form- Slim’s sockets flashed in a dark amber from the shadows of his hood and he turned, yanking the door open before sprinting out of the house.

Papyrus watched him go through the open door, able to see his silhouette from the camera flashes that were coming from the crowd outside his home, and launch over the fence, turning and running down a path that was opposite the way to Grillby’s. He stared for a moment, long enough for Slim to apparently realize the mistake and come sprinting back down the other way with a screech.

The night swallowed him as he passed, the streetlamps only giving a vague view of his form, and Papyrus sighed as the cameras turned back to him, flashing through the open door. He shut and locked it, turning and going around back to where his car was parked. Undyne had suggested that he line bushes in front of the fence for more privacy, and the benefits of the suggestion came back to him as he walked into the garage, opening the door unlocking his car. 

The flashing started up again as he pulled out of the driveway, shutting the garage door with his remote control and pulling into the street. The cameras followed him and he gave them a grin and a wave- just like he was used to- before making his way down the street.

Though the sun had yet to fully set it was mostly dark, the mountain covering the town in its shadow. Papyrus slowed as he turned the corner, sighing as he saw Slim leaning against a telephone pole and panting. He checked to make sure that no one was behind him before he stopped.

“Slim!” The other looked up at him. Papyrus dipped his head towards the empty seat beside him, watching the other expectantly. There was a pause, and for a moment he thought that Slim was going to start sprinting again before the other sighed, pushing back from the pole and trotting across the street.

Instead of going around to the door on the other side, Slim opened his door, stepping over his lap and forcing him to press back further into his seat as he climbed into shotgun. Papyrus shut the door, waiting for Slim to buckle before he continued to drive.

“So.” Slim groaned as he leaned back, closing his eyes and resting his skull on the top of the headrest. “We’ll just call it a tie.”

“That sounds fair,” he said, mostly because arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere, and the last thing he needed was for them to have to figure out who truly won or lost the ‘bet.’

Papyrus looked over his shoulder, changing lanes and making his way to the highway. Slim started bouncing his legs as the car picked up speed, lifting his skull up to lean off to the side, sockets half-lidded as the air buffeted his face. “Hey, Paps. You know what’s fucked up?”

“What?”

“In books, they mark pages as one and two, even if they’re on the same page.” Papyrus furrowed his brow, glancing over at Slim from the corner of his sockets. His leg was bouncing violently, his fingers tapping against the side of the door in quick succession. Tapping and bouncing, an almost strained grin on his face, his head cocked ever-so-slightly to the side. “You have a page, and it says ‘1’ or ‘2’ or ‘70’ on the bottom, lottsa different numbers and shit, but the ‘1’ and ‘2’ are on the same page! Back and front, but the same.”

Slim swept his arm out to the side violently, laughing, his legs still bouncing as he sat in place. “It just doesn’t make any fucking sense, ya know?”

He… honestly wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer or not. Instead he sat quietly, deciding to let Slim work through the conversation himself. Talking seemed to soothe the other, and he was fairly certain that the jerky movements of his legs weren’t from excitement.

“Course, I guess that the numbers might just mean the sections of word that are on the pages. Word sections one and two are on different sides of the same page.” They were fast approaching their destination. Slim exhaled harshly, clicking his tongue as he shifted in his seat.

“But then why the fuck are they called ‘page numbers?’ It doesn’t make any damn sense.”

Papyrus waited long enough to see if Slim was going to continue. When he didn’t, he responded. “That’s very interesting!”

Slim snorted, giving him a lopsided grin. “No, it ain’t. It’s just me spouting bullshit because I’m an anxious, pansy-ass  _ bitch.” _

Papyrus sniffed. “First of all, I like pansies.”

The other laughed, and for a moment the rapid movement of his leg paused. It started up once more as Papyrus put on his signal, making his way off the highway. Papyrus frowned. “We don’t have to go to Grillby’s. You know that, right?”

A laugh was the only response given before Slim turned to fully face him, sending him a wink as his grin stretched wide. “What makes you think that I wouldn’t want to go?”

“For one,” he said, “your legs are trying to pound a hole through the floor of my car.”

Slim clicked his tongue, taking his hands and grabbing onto his knees, forcing his legs to still. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

They started to slow as the stretch of road bled into stores that lined the block, the streetlamps casting shadows around the area. Grillby’s bar- really, since it had moved to the surface, it was more of a club, Mettaton having agreed to help the move in exchange for some liberties regarding the decoration- was lit up in hues of reds and purples, humans and monsters alike loitering outside in small groups. Muffled music could be heard from the outside, not quite the heavy thump of a club but still carrying a distinct bassline and melody. 

Papyrus pulled up to the curb, turning off the engine before looking over at Slim. The other was staring with wide eyes at Grillby’s, quiet for a few moments before he let out an interested hum. “Huh. Looks different than I thought it would.”

Before Papyrus could ask, Slim was unbuckling, climbing over him and hopping out of the car. He sighed, following after and locking his car. Slim trotted up to the door, nodding at the guards that were leaning against the walls on either side of the entrance before going in, Papyrus quick on his heels.

The club was fairly full, and Papyrus scanned the area, quickly picking out all of their friends as he followed Slim up to the bar, hopping onto the seat beside him. Slim was squinting at the menu, brow furrowed, and after a moment he turned halfway towards Papyrus in confusion. “Paps, where are the good drugs? All I see is alcohol.”

Papyrus stared at him for a long moment, not entirely sure how to respond to that question, before he sighed. “That’s the only kind of drug they serve here.”

Slim turned to stare at him with blank eyes, face entirely expressionless, before he whispered hoarsely. “What the fuck.”

Papyrus huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at the language but unable to help himself regardless. Slim grinned, opening his mouth to maybe make a joke, a kind of excited pride in his eyes that appeared whenever he made someone laugh, before the expression was wiped clean, replaced by something like fear or anger. Papyrus flinched in shock, at Slim’s suddenly tense and uncomfortable form, and he followed the other’s gaze over his shoulder, fixated on Grillby, slowly polishing a glass and looking to be in a conversation with Sans, Red slumped on the counter just beside him.

The stool let out a creak, and Papyrus looked back to see Slim stiffly walking in the other direction, towards the old jukebox. He glanced back at the trio one more time before hurrying after Slim, coming up to see the other crouched just beside the machine, face concentrated as he started to pry the panel from the side. Papyrus blinked, watching Slim fall back on his rear as he managed to yank it open before quickly scooting forward, reaching both arms inside. He watched the other for a moment longer before he crouched as well, brow furrowing in concern. 

“Slim, are you okay?”

The other grunted as he pulled out a bunch of wires, letting them hang out of the open port before he reached back in. “You know, it’s kinda funny how this thing is broken in every universe.” He tilted his head to Papyrus, grinning quickly before turning back to his fiddling. “You’d think at least one of the millions of iterations would have a working one. But nope! We’re all dumb as fuck!”

He closed his mouth with a click, watching as Slim focused on his work. They were in the corner, not conspicuous or in the way, and the few monsters and humans that looked in their direction quickly found something more interesting to pay attention to. Slim was methodical as he pulled parts out of the machine, pinching the small gears between his fingers and lining them carefully on the ground between his legs, muttering to himself as he continued his work. Papyrus stood after a few minutes, placing himself on the nearest stool and watching Slim sort gears and wires and unknown parts into specific piles with a grin.

Moments later, Slim let out a triumphant shout, looking up at Papyrus with a grin. “Just as I suspected.”

“What?”

Slim’s grin widened. “This shit’s fucking broke.”

Papyrus sighed as the other started to put the parts back in, slow and careful, and he would have been more annoyed had he not been able to notice the way that Slim’s hands- the movements quick and jerky moments ago- had significantly calmed. “Paps?”

He blinked before shaking his head, leaning down to hear better. “Yes?”

Slim nodded his head somewhere behind him, and Papyrus turned to follow the gesture. “Which one of those humans do you think will win? My money’s on Red Shirt.”

Sure enough, there were two male humans, both looking fairly agitated, their gestures aggressive and faces flushed. They seemed to be arguing about something, though neither one seemed to be willing to back down, and within moments the human with the red shirt swung out a fist. The other dodged it before punching back, hitting the red human in the jaw and knocking him to the floor. Slim was quiet for a moment before he clicked his tongue. “Welp. I guess that’s why I don’t place the bets.”

Papyrus looked back down at his friend after watching a few of the customers around the pair hold them back from each other, frowning. Slim caught his expression and grinned, shoulders shaking lightly in laughter. He sighed. “Slim. It’s not funny.” He laughed harder. “Slim! Someone could have gotten seriously hurt!”

At that Slim scoffed, grabbing the rest of parts into his gloved fist and tossing them carelessly into the open port on the jukebox (despite the fact that it was already broken, the action made him wince) before popping the panel back into place, the only sign that it was ever gone to begin with a thin seam. “Hurt? Right. This Grillby’s is too nice for anyone to really get hurt here.” Slim stood, crossing over to the stool beside him and sitting down with a grin. “Injured? Maybe. But nah, no one here really gets  _ hurt. _ It’s safer here. More comfortable.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. A lot of his conversations with Slim ended along those lines, him unsure just how to walk on the eggshells Slim seemed to throw everywhere and Slim not seeming to care about anything that he said. Papyrus turned his head, glancing around the club at the others as they drank and joked.

More specifically, he found himself looking at Fell, at Red. Both different than the skeleton to his right, of course, but… Red had a glass in his hand, his face washed in a drunken flush, grin wide as he shared the dark humor he was so well-known for, and Fell was leaning against the wall, eyes scanning the room not like a guard but an observer, guard up but not stiff. Neither one entirely relaxed but at ease, and before he could stop himself he was saying “You could always stay here: as long as you want to. As long as you need to.”

Slim gave him an odd look, somewhere between shock and confusion, before he grinned, giving him a laugh. “Thanks, Paps. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that he waved Grillby over and ordered a drink, but Papyrus didn’t miss the way that Slim’s ungloved hand dug into his femur hard enough that it had to hurt, glass clutched like a lifeline in his hand. He was going to drink himself sick, Papyrus knew.

At least he was there to keep an eye on him, however fleeting it would be.


	3. it's not as hard as the junior jumble, at least

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which slim shows that he is definitely okay, and also there is a fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter! (no song either)

 

As it was, Slim didn’t stay, nor did he come back for days. There was no notice from him or his brother- though, Papyrus thought, Razz would hardly be the one to volunteer information- and he was starting to wonder if he had done something wrong when word finally came through. Less word and more appearance, as things were with Slim. There was no news so suddenly, like a line had been cut in a call, and then one morning he walking into the kitchen to see Slim perched on the center of the table, folded almost possessively over a box of cereal, a piece of dried marshmallow stuck comically on his cheekbone.

“Slim?” He questioned, pausing just in the entrance to the room like stepping into it would cause the other to disappear again. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Slim lifted the box up, giving it a small shake as he turned it to show the maze on the back, a black line drawn through and scribbled out in multiple places where he’d taken the wrong path. “Albert Einstein can suck my ass,” he said, finally, before going back to the maze.

Papyrus watched him, eyes flitting over his form (checking for bandages) as he stepped in, walking slowly to the counter. He stopped just in front of the kettle that was on the stove, drumming his fingers on the counter in quick succession before turning to look over his shoulder. Slim was still sitting, looking for the life of him like he hadn’t been all but missing for the past six days, like he hadn’t rejected all calls and ignored every text like he had so many times before. There wasn’t much he could do, of course, other than glare disapprovingly and watch as Slim grinned back, unapologetic and unafraid. Nothing could be done whether it was the first or the 30th time that it had happened.

Slim would be Slim. Regardless of the effect on others around him.

So he picked up the kettle, taking it to the sink and filling it with water before placing it on the stove. It clicked as he turned up the heat before the flame caught, and he stepped back after adjusting the teapot once more, making his way over to the table. A faint scratching was coming from the box as Slim drew the pen over it, occasionally muttering a soft curse for dramatic effect when he found himself cornered. Papyrus stood, watching, as Slim sat, drawing and scribbling out unwanted lines with dramatic fever as he continued to be stumped by the maze for comedy’s sake. Papyrus found himself murmuring the next needed turn for the maze’s completion, sighing with fond annoyance as Slim started to draw with his suggestion before promptly stopping and turning the line to go back the way he came.    
“Gotta make sure that I’ve checked every path,” he explained. His eyelights flicked up to Papyrus for a brief moment, flaring slightly as he grinned, proud of being as obnoxious as possible.

The maze was less a maze and more a tangled mess of lines- confusing and crossing each other, doubling back only to scribble each other out and continue on- but Slim still moved his hand smoothly, somehow able to see through the mass of black ink to the cardboard below. He didn’t bother to comment on it with more than a roll of his eyes, not missing the way that Slim’s grin widened at his reaction.

The kettle began to let out a shrill shriek, breaking the moment’s peace as it built, and when he turned to take it off the heat he was reminded of the fact that Slim often only showed up randomly when he was either high or injured. Or both. The water bubbled in the pot and the pen scratched against the cardboard and Papyrus stood beside the counter and worried. The cups were in the top middle cabinet, just above the stove, and as he grabbed two mugs he thought about how easily injuries could (and would) be hidden underneath the thick material of Slim’s coat. He dropped a bag of sea tea in each before he poured the water, the hot breath of steam brushing against his hand as the clouds dispersed in the air.

The scratching became louder, Slim clutching the pen tight in his fist as he attacked the cardboard. The piece of cereal that had been stuck to his cheek fell, hitting the box with a small tap before momentum carried it to the floor. Papyrus gathered both mugs, stepping over to the table and setting them down, reaching to swipe up the lone marshmallow on the floor. He tossed it into the nearby trash can, looking over his shoulder as Slim methodically filled every space he could of the maze.

“You’ve been gone for awhile” he said. The scratching paused before it started up again. “Are you okay?”

“As okay as I’ve ever been.”

“That’s not particularly reassuring.”

Slim snickered, looking up at him with a lopsided grin. “I’m still kickin’. Still breathin’. Doin’ great!”

Papyrus picked up one of the mugs, dipping the tea bag to steep the drink faster. “That’s not what I meant.”

He cast a pointed look at Slim, fighting down frustration at the flirtatious wink he sent back his way. Papyrus took a sip, frowning slightly at the bitter taste. He moved back to the counter, grabbing the sugar and spooning come into his drink. “Did you want-” he turned to see Slim happily gnawing on the tea bag. “I guess not.”

Plucking the bag out of his mouth, Slim laughed, tossing it into the mug beside him. It landed with a plop, water splashing over the rim and landing on the table. The droplets beaded on the wood. “So, what’ve I missed?”

“Aside from what had to be dozens of concerned attempts to contact you from close friends?” He stirred the tea. The spoon clattered against the sides. “Nothing much.”

Slim chuckled- loud with a tinge of nervousness- and swung his legs over the side of the table, standing and cramming his fists into his pockets. “Heh. Yikes.”

A silence stretched between them, threatening to shroud everything in a layer of awkwardness, and so, after a moment, Papyrus sighed, taking a sip of the now-sweetened tea. “Are you hurt?”

“Nope.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yep.”

Slim laughed at the glare he threw his way, rocking back and forth on his feet. ‘Idle animation’ is what he had called it once when Papyrus had asked, bobbing back and forth with a grin on his face. He had the habit of doing things simply so he could crack a joke when asked about it.

He shook the thoughts from his head. “How badly?”

A shrug. “Not horribly. I’ve had worse. Bruises, nicks and scrapes, but nothing you gotta worry about.”

“You know that I’ll worry about it regardless, right?”

Slim just laughed, shifting slightly in place. Neither of them spoke for a while, and Papyrus almost thought Slim would ignore his question completely before he gave a defeated chuckle. “That’s what’s funny about you guys. You always worry.” From the way that he said it, Papyrus knew he meant far more than just Sans and himself.

“You can worry,” he continued, “but you don’t gotta cry about it. I just came to let you know that I’m still alive!”

“I’m relieved to see that much.” Slim grinned, and before he could really stop himself Papyrus was smiling back.

A ringtone sounded, breaking the silence between them and prompting Slim to take a step back, answering his phone. He nodded, gave a few affirmatives as if remembering that his actions couldn’t be seen on the other end of the line, before shoving it back in his pocket.

“Welp,” he said, making his way to the back door, “duty calls.”

“I didn’t know you actually attended to your duties.” It was teasing and playful, and he couldn’t help but puff slightly in pride when Slim turned back and looked at him with an excited smile, brow bone raised and laughter rushing through his teeth.

“You know me; always willing to do anything for drug money.” He turned to the door, stopping just before he grabbed the handle. “I’ll try to keep in contact better.” The statement was so out of place that it took a moment before he realized what Slim had actually said, and by then the other had already begun walking to the shed out back and it was too late to clarify. He started to grin, thanking the Angel that he wouldn’t have to go worried days without knowing if he was alright or not.

It wasn’t until then that Papyrus realized the haze in the other’s eyelights, the way that they were brighter and sharper but slowly fading out towards the edges. Slim wasn’t sober, at least not entirely, and there was a chance he wouldn’t remember anything from his visit whatsoever. Most certainly he wouldn’t remember his promise. Papyrus sighed before he walked over to the table, picking up the mug and dumping it out in the sink. He took the tea bag, taking it over the trash can, only to stop and stare at the contents.

Sitting inside was a syringe, the needle bent slightly, the barrel entirely empty. He reached in, carefully picking it up, turning it over in his hands. It was dangerous to just leave it in the trash can, and so he put it in his inventory, grabbing a rag with a sigh before wiping the table down. All he could do was hope Slim kept his promise, sober or not.

 

The funny thing was he didn’t. Not funny, really, more upsetting than anything, although maybe it was more funny that he thought Slim would remember anything, much less his promise. It had been a few days since his visit, and although Slim had kept in contact the first two (keeping in contact meaning Papyrus asking how he was doing and receiving a meme in return), he hadn’t heard anything since.

The harsh clatter of pots and pans brought him out of his thoughts, and he had half a second to dodge before Undyne threw a pan in his direction, ducking down as it clattered against the wall. He stayed crouching for a moment longer before he turned, giving her an annoyed glare that quickly faded into rolling his eyes as she just laughed.

“I’m not entirely sure that throwing something was completely necessary.”

She simply grinned, flashing sharp teeth as she reached over the stove to turn up the heat. Her fingers curled just before she reached it, and she backed off before going back to calmly stir the pot. Papyrus stood up. It seemed like Alphys had finally gotten the expense of buying a new stove every week through her wife’s head.

“It is if it gets you out of those thoughts of yours,” she said, the fins on the sides of her head flaring in amusement.

Undyne leaned over, looking at the recipe on the tablet that was propped against the counter, squinting her eye as she read it before nodding in satisfaction. She walked over, grabbing a bowl and slamming it on the countertop beside him as she grabbed handfuls of the needed ingredients- tomatoes, mushrooms, some garlic, dumping salt and pepper into it- before slamming her fist into the mixture with a wild look in her eyes. The juice sloshed over the sides, splattering over the counter and beginning its slow trail down the cabinets to the floor.

“What’s the problem, bone boy?”

He put a new pan on the stove, pouring oil in the bottom as he sniffed with indignation. “I’m not a boy.”

She guffawed. “Fine, punk. Bone  _ man.” _

He formed his tongue, sticking it out at her as he stepped away, letting her pour the chunky mixture into the pan he’d just placed on the burner. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

That was apparently the wrong answer as Undyne turned to him, eye narrowing, before she stepped over and threw him over her shoulder. He yelped in surprised as she spun before launching him into the nearest chair at the table, jumping in the air herself and slamming down in the center of the table. The furniture creaked under the force but didn’t break. Papyrus was fairly certain that Alphys fortified everything in the house for that very reason.

Undyne squatted until she was about eye level with him, hands resting flat on the table. Her eye flared with challenge, grin widening. “Talk.”

He sighed, deciding to give in, knowing that denying it would only result in an overload of noogies. “I’m just… worried about… a friend.”

Undyne stared at him, lips pursed, before she gave him a shark-like grin, leaning forward until she was inches from his face. “A ‘friend’?”

He nodded, and her grin stretched impossibly wider, a glint in her eye that came when she was particularly excited about something. It was about the same look she’d get when she would talk about anime, and he shuddered to think that it was directed at him. 

She hopped off the table, grabbing him around his shoulders and lifting him from the chair with minimal effort. “It wouldn’t happen to be one of your other  _ bone _ friends, would it?”

He frowned. “Undyne.”

“So, which one? One of the shorties?”

“Undyne!”

“Hoodie? Or is it Tight Pants?”

“UNDYNE!”

“Well, punk? Who is it?”

“THE STOVE IS ON FIRE.”

She blinked, still holding him in the air as she looked over her shoulder. Flames were reaching up from the pans, the bright orange starting to lick at the bottom of the cabinets. Undyne frowned, tucking him under one of her arms as she moved closer, looking at the fire. “Well, shit.”

Papyrus struggled in her grip, which was the wrong decision to make as she tightened her hold, forcing the breath from his ribs as she brought her fist around to noogie the top of his head. He screeched- really, that was the best way to describe it, somewhere between a shout of indignation and frustration- as he struggled harder. Which, in turn, made Undyne flex harder, cackling as she held him in her death grip and showed her affection the way she best knew how. 

He placed a hand on her back and one on her arm, pushing until he finally managed to squeeze his head out of her attack. Undyne didn’t seem bothered by it, just laughing as she walked over to the stove, grabbing one of the many,  _ many _ fire extinguishers that they kept around and dousing the flames. The bottoms of the cabinets were blackened but intact- another one of Alphys’s Undyne-proof modifications. 

Once the flames were out she gave the stove one more spray before setting the extinguisher down, laughing. “How does takeout sound?”

Papyrus nodded, watching as she pulled out her phone and started to order. As he watched her, he pulled out his own phone to see that there were no new messages. Unfortunately, his distraction kept him from noticing that she was done ordering until she flicking him on the forehead, making him yelp. He frowned at her but she just shrugged, gesturing to the table. They sat, and Undyne sighed as she leaned back in her chair. 

“What’s eatin’ ya, Paps?”

“Currently? Nothing. Though I am very worried about one of my  _ friends.” _ He emphasized the word, leaning slightly into it as he did so. Undyne just rolled her eye, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yeah, yeah, punk. I get it.” Her grin faded slightly before she sighed, swiping a hand down her face. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m not gonna make you tell me, but…” She trailed off. The fins on the side of her head flared in a wave as she looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. “You can’t help everyone. You can’t  _ save _ everyone. You know that, right?”

Papyrus blinked at the serious tone, at the way she spoke to him. It was far from the normal way she talked to him. “I know.” He knew more than anyone was likely to give him credit for. “But! I can try!”

Undyne snorted, the sound of fond amusement, swiping a hand down her face once more before she grinned. “Alright, Paps. Just remember that not everyone deserves the amount of work you put into them, right?”

He shrugged. “If kindness was a matter of deserving, then no one would ever get it.”

She grinned, standing up. There was something soft in it, almost worried, but it was soon replaced by the competitive flare that he knew as his best friend. She jumped, landing hard beside the stove before grabbing a pot, launching it at him. He caught it with ease, swinging it around by the handle as he stood. “C’mon, punk!” She yanked two rags out from one of the drawers, tossing it over at him. “Last one cleaning has to pay for takeout!”

He stood tall, posing as he pointed the pan in her direction, allowing his magic to brush at his scarf, making it flap heroically. “Good luck defeating me!” He tossed the pan in the air, the burnt contents falling in flakes to the ground as he caught and spun it, sweeping into a new pose. “Years of cleaning up after my brother has prepared me for this day!”

Undyne snorted, slamming her fist on the counter with a grin. Being worried all the time was far from productive. 

For a while, at least, he would ignore his concerns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucking love undyne


	4. the anxious third wheel of the tricycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so, three skeletons walk into a coffee shop. the joke isnt that funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzVQxxwwoZ4) doesnt really suit the chapter but i think its a jam anyways

It was almost funny how hypocritical he was, constantly worried about someone when he knew that he himself grew annoyed when others did the same to him. He had tried not to worry, of course, reminding himself of Slim’s own strength, how the other was more than capable of taking care of himself, but every time it was always shrouded by the fact that just because Slim was  _ capable _ didn’t mean that he actually took care of himself. And so his attempts at self-reassurance only caused him to worry more as they reinforced the idea of Slim’s lack of self-preservation. There was really no use worrying about it, though. Slim was capable, but he wouldn’t, and even if Papyrus was there with him he knew that the other would only be annoyed at his smothering. If he wasn’t already annoyed at the text he sent every morning, checking to try to make sure the other was okay. 

Papyrus shook the anxieties from his head, shoving his phone into the pocket of the jeans he was wearing. They weren’t nearly as comfortable as his battle body, but they were almost preferable to the costume he was constantly forced to perform in. Even in Underswap, he couldn’t quite shake the worry from the clothes despite not being the face of monsters. At least, not entirely, though Stretch seemed far more relaxed under flashing cameras and attention, giving lazy waves with an easy grin, not really posing beyond slinging his hands in his hoodie with a slouch. 

But the other wasn’t relaxed at the moment, arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping impatiently. “Just like him,” he muttered, pulling out his phone to check the time, “inviting himself over and then being late.”

Papyrus raised a brow. “Fell does this often?”

Stretch stopped his tapping, looking away, before it started up again. “Technically, no. But if he did then he would definitely be an asshole like this.”

He kept the expression on his face, though the corner of his mouth was beginning to quirk up in amusement. “Fell, the one that we know, who thinks that being any less than 15 minutes early is late, would do this just to spite you?”

Stretch turned, shot him a glare. “Look, you don’t gotta bring logic into the situation.”

He shook his head with a laugh, starting to feel more at ease, and pulled his phone back out of his pocket. It was a quarter past ten, not too long after Fell had arranged for them to meet up, but long enough to be a reason for concern. He went back into his messages, ignoring the unread texts he had sent to Slim in favor of going into his texts with Fell. It was written different than the perfect grammer the other usually held, missing apostrophes and commas, and Papyrus found himself starting to worry about yet  _ another _ one of his friends before the sound of a teleport filled the air, followed by a loud crash. 

Stretch and him looked at each other before hurrying into the kitchen, where the noise had come from. The table was broken, with two groaning skeletons laying on top of it. Red looked up, gave him a small wave and a smirk, and Fell stood, looking around before shifting his glare on his brother.

_ “No.” _

Red ignored him, turning to face Stretch and Papyrus. “I’m dropping him off here for a couple hours. He needs something soft for a bit.”

Fell lunged for him but Red was (shockingly enough) quicker, stepping to the side and turning him blue. Curses started to fill the air as he struggled, but Red just turned around, making his way to the door. “I’ll turn the machine back on in a couple hours.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, sending them a wink. “Good luck, fuckers.”

He disappeared with a pop, Fell jumping up right after before sprinting out the door. The two of them stood, watching the door drift slowly on its hinges. Papyrus coughed. “Well. At least we know why he was so late.”

The sound of the shed door slamming quieted Stretch before he could say anything, Fell stomping in the house soon after and radiating fury. Stretch smirked, and Papyrus sighed as he realized a majority of his time here would be spent keeping them from being at each other’s throats. “You alright there, edgelord?”

Fell just glared at him, fists clenching tight enough that he could hear the creak of leather gloves. Oh no. “Um!” Fell turned, looking at him. “I take it that Red disconnected the machine?”

Fell nodded. “Sucks for you,” Stretch muttered under his breath, flinching back when Fell took a threatening step forward.

Papyrus sighed as he watched the two, reaching a hand up to pinch his nasal ridge. “As much as you two enjoy your sexual tension, I would prefer not to be the awkward third wheel during our hangout.”

Stretch sputtered, face flushing a bright orange as Fell crossed his arms, looking away with a huff. “Who said anything about having a ‘hangout’?”

“Your brother, for one.” Fell narrowed his eyes, but the glare was lost on him since he knew there was no real threat behind it. At least, not at the moment. “And besides! If you’re going to be here for a while then you may as well have some fun.”

“Yeah,” Stretch chimed in, “take the stick out of your ass and learn to have a good time.” 

Fell stared at him for a moment, face void of expression, before he gave a tight smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fine then. What do the two of you suggest?”

Stretch looked over at him for help. He only shrugged. Underswap was far from his jurisdiction. Navigating the surface in his own universe was hard enough without factoring in a mirrored reverse of everything. 

Stretch shifted in place, hands wringing inside of his hoodie pocket. “Well. We could go downtown? See the sights, grab a bite to eat…” He trailed off, giving Fell an obvious once-over. “I’m pretty sure there’s a Hot Topic somewhere too.”

Papyrus reached over and smacked him on the arm, but Fell didn’t seem to mind, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He walked past the two of them, out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“Gee, don’t sound so excited,” Stretch said, but he followed after anyways, Papyrus trailing after the two soon after. 

They left the house to see Fell already standing by the jeep parked in the driveway, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Down the drive, behind the fence set up, a few humans were standing, cameras held up so that he couldn’t see their faces. The lenses were trained on Stretch, mostly, but a few were aimed at Fell and himself. The sounds of the shutters were unfortunately familiar. They slid into the jeep as Stretch started it up, Fell in the front seat, and they began to pull out of the driveway. The cameras followed them, and after a moment Stretch lifted a hand, giving them a lazy wave. Fell lifted a hand, flipping them off. The cameras clicked faster as they started to pull away.

“Dude, what the hell?” The wind whipping through the open top made it difficult to hear the words, but the annoyance in them wasn’t lost. 

Fell just shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Stretch rolled his eyes, but Papyrus asked “Why don’t you?” Fell was spiteful enough that he usually did whatever he wanted, and if he was as bothered by the cameras as everyone else was then he couldn’t see why that wouldn’t transfer into his actions. 

He scoffed. “Please. Relations are strained enough without me adding my middle finger to the mix.”

It was silent for a moment, almost awkwardly so. Stretch broke it by coughing into his fist. He reached to the dash, grabbing the aux cord. “Alright, well, subject change,” he handed it back to Papyrus. “You’re in charge of music.”

“I thought shotgun was supposed to be in charge of music?” 

Papyrus glanced up as he plugged in his phone, taking in Fell’s tense posture and bouncing leg. As they pulled to a stoplight Stretch rolled his eyes. “Your taste in music is shitty.”

“You’ve never heard my music.”

“Well, it probably sucks.”

The continued their bickering, and Papyrus rolled his eyes fondly as he put his phone on shuffle, looking out the open window. The cars roared as they passed by, open yards and small houses starting to give way to larger buildings, busier roads. They turned onto a busy street, large buildings proudly displaying signs that said spaces were available for rent, maneuvering through the city traffic. They slowed, and then turned, pulling onto a less occupied street and slowing to a park.

“Well,” Stretch said, pulling his keys out of the ignition with a sigh, “what do you wanna do?”

“Go back to my universe.”

It was silent for a few seconds before Stretch turned to Papyrus, grin tight. “What about you? Anything?”

He shrugged. It didn’t really matter where they went to him (as long as it wasn’t someplace overly greasy), and their excursion was more about Fell anyways.

“Cool.” Stretch huffed as he unbuckled, sliding out of his seat and slamming the door behind him. “Glad to see that we’re all indecisive assholes.”

He started walking down the sidewalk, leaving them to follow after. For a moment, Papyrus was worried that he would just sit in the car the whole time. After a moment, Fell sighed, making his way after Stretch. Papyrus walked beside him, the two quickly catching up to the other’s lazy gait.

“Where are we going?” 

Stretch tossed him a glare. “Oh.  _ Now _ you care.” He turned to face forwards once more, pulling out his phone and taking a cigarette from his inventory. “Someplace that you might like.”

Fell reached over and plucked the cig from between his teeth, flicking it to the side. Stretch made an offended gasp, looking over at Papyrus for support. He just shrugged. That was just how Fell flirted, he supposed. They walked in silence aside from Fell’s occasional grumbling about the situation and the humans that took semi-discrete photos of their entourage. Despite the attention, a majority of it wasn’t focused on him. It was nice, in a way, walking with the two down a street where nobody  _ really _ knew him. 

Soon they stopped, and Stretch turned to face them both as he gestured at a storefront with a grin. The sign proudly read “Affo-GATO Cat Cafè,” paws decorating the holes of the letters and cat decals adorned on the windows. Papyrus took a step towards it, putting his hands on the glass and squinting into the shop. Inside he could see a few cats lounging around in various locations. He tapped on the glass, grabbing the attention of one by the window, smiling as it batted at his finger.

“What’s this?” Papyrus looked over his shoulder to see Fell standing next to him, looking in through the glass. His eyelights were small but clear, interested even if his voice wasn’t showing it.

“Can.” Stretch paused, looking between him and the window. “Can you read?”

Fell glared at him, turning and walking through the door with a huff. Stretch rolled his eyes, but when he caught Papyrus’s gaze he stopped, blinking. 

“What?”

Papyrus shook his head with a sigh, looking back into the store where Fell was standing on his own. His arms were crossed tight as he stood to the side of the door, eyes not so much looking around as surveying the area. “You’re not very good at flirting, are you?”

Stretch sputtered, making a face and looking away. A blush cropped up on his face, faint freckles of magic showing in a darker orange over his cheekbones. “I’m not flirting,” he said. 

Despite his insistence, Papyrus knew better than to believe it. “A word of advice,” he said, standing from his crouch and clapping his hands together to brush them off. He walked over to Stretch, giving him a friendly (though not quite the Undyne level of friendly) slap on the shoulder. “Try being less of a jerk!”

With that he nodded, giving a small smile, turning and making his way through the doors. The bells that were hanging above him rang out as the door hit them, a few of the customers and felines in the room looking up at the sound. He ignored them, opting to make his way over to Fell. 

“What kind of coffee were you planning on getting?”

Fell didn’t answer for a moment, finger tapping against his humerus. To the side, a human stood up with their empty cup. The other’s eyes snapped to the movement, bright red spotlights on them as they gave the cat in the chair across from them a scratch between the ears, walking to the trash can and throwing away their cup.

When they sat back down he muttered “I was thinking of getting a tea.”

“Any kind in particular?”

Fell glanced over at him before looking up at the menu. “English breakfast, probably,” he said after a pause.

The bells over the door rang right after, Stretch walking in to stand near their little group. The blush was gone from his face, likely as him spending time outside to make sure it went entirely away. “Stretch!” The other looked up at him with a surprised blink. “I take it you want regular black tea?”

“Uh.” He glanced between him and the board. “Yeah?”

“Great!” He shooed the both of them back. “Go find a seat. I can order!” 

Before they could argue he was turning and making his way to the counter. The barista was polite, taking his order quickly and offering him a quiet thanks when he dropped the change he was given in the tip jar. He glanced over his shoulder as he was waiting, quickly finding Stretch and Fell in the corner of the shop, a few feet away from the emergency exit. Fell had his back to the wall, features closed off as he looked around the area. As he watched, a cat came up to the pair, rubbing against Fell’s leg before jumping into his lap. He seemed shocked at first, tense, but it quickly faded as he pet the cat, posture relaxing. Stretch and Fell were making light conversation and- though he couldn’t hear the words- judging by the tones it was easygoing. 

He turned back to the counter, watching the human as their hands moved around the area, grabbing ingredients and placing tea bags, sealing lids and calling out names. After a moment, he found his hand wandering towards his pocket, and before he could talk himself out of it he was pulling out his phone. No new messages. Papyrus ignored the pang of hurt, worry, and disappointment in his soul as his name was called, pocketing the device once more and grabbing the drinks. A cat followed him as he walked to the table, weaving between his legs and almost tripping him up before looking up and meowing at him innocently. He frowned at it, rolling his eyes with a smile as he kept walking, setting the drink carrier on the table.

He took a chair from another table, setting it down and taking a seat. The other two had already grabbed their teas, and as he took his own Papyrus couldn’t help but to sigh in relief. It was peaceful, and any tension was friendly. Even with the short time that they had been there, he could already see how relaxed Fell was when compared to earlier. 

Papyrus took a sip of his tea, reaching down with his free hand to scratch the head of a cat that was rubbing against his leg. It was quiet for a few moments between them all, the only sound being the gentle music that came from the speakers in the ceiling. He shifted in his seat, feeling the press of his phone in his pocket, and despite the fact that he hadn’t felt it buzz at all he took it out, looking at the lack of notifications with barely-concealed disappointment. He really needed to stop doing this to himself. 

When Papyrus looked up he met Fell’s gaze, the other watching him suspiciously. His hand slowed on the cat’s back. 

“Any particular reason you keep looking at your phone?”

He winced and looked away. “Just checking the time! Which is always changing, you know.”

As he watched, Fell stopped his petting entirely, long enough that the cat turned and grabbed his hand with its paws, biting at the leather of his glove. Fell flicked his gaze down, huffing in amusement as he pulled his hand away, going back to his petting. “You have on a watch,” he pointed out. 

Papyrus glanced down at his wrist. The MTT brand watch Sans had gotten him for Gyftmas proudly showed the time. In a moment of absolute stealth he covered it with his other hand, hiding it from view. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about at all.”

“Subtle.”

Stretch set his drink down. “Who are you waiting to hear from?”

He huffed. “Wow, I sure love how my privacy is respected here.”

Fell raised a brow, giving him a Grade-A Look. “I’m essentially being held against my will right now. Privacy is a privilege at this point.”

He grumbled but couldn’t really argue with that point. Stretch was looking between the two of them with curiosity. “So? Who is it?”

He glanced down at his phone. Likely the other two were entirely aware of the situation at hand, which would mean they were either just as worried or they weren’t worried at all. Besides, sharing it would be a good idea, right? Fell knew the strains of a universe such as his own, and Stretch was similar to Slim in more ways than one. 

“It’s Slim,” he said. “He hasn’t been responding and… I’m worried.”

“Don’t be.” Fell picked the cat up from his lap, holding it aloft as he looked down to the floor in thought. After a moment he seemed to decide against something, reaching over and placing it in Stretch’s lap without asking. “If he’s not responding then there’s a chance he hasn’t been in a safe enough position to respond. He’ll answer when he’s able to.”

Stretch was staring at the cat in discomfort, both arms raised up. The cat didn’t seem to mind the change in position, letting out a soft meow before laying down on his lap. “Jesus, edgelord. Way to think positive.” He looked at Papyrus, arms coming back down to rest on the table. “He probably just lost his phone or something. You know how he is.”

He sighed, finger poking at the side of his cup. “Yes, I know.” He knew very well. “But this isn’t the first time he’s done this.”

Neither seemed to know what to say to that, sitting in silence once more. The music playing around them cut off as the song switched to an equally grainy current hit. “Slim will be Slim,” Fell finally stated. 

Stretch took a drink of his tea before running a cautious hand through the cat’s fur. It arched its spine into his touch, purring softly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “He’s probably just too high to remember how to use his phone.”

Papyrus huffed, resisting the urge to stamp his foot no matter how much he wanted to. It would only serve to lessen his argument and- even worse- he might risk stepping on the tail of an innocent feline. “That’s not any better! Are neither one of you even the  _ slightest _ bit concerned?”

Fell sighed. Stretch at least had the decency to look away. “Of course we are. But Slim is more than capable of protecting himself.”

_ But not of taking care of himself, _ he thought, but held his tongue at the last moment. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t even about Slim, despite his worry. It was about Fell, another one of his friends who needed help even if he wouldn’t admit it. And so he did what he did best. 

He smiled. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

Fell gave him a look, not quite believing it, but anything he may have said against it was interrupted by Stretch’s yelp as he yanked his hand away from the cat. 

“Little fucker  _ bit me.” _

“Well, what did you do to upset it?”

“I was just petting him!”

“You were likely doing it wrong.”

They continued their bickering on the proper ways to pet a cat and Stretch’s intelligence (or lack thereof), and it wasn’t long before Papyrus found himself laughing along. Fell was much more relaxed than earlier, his eyelights not as sharp of a red and guard lowered. Yet Papyrus still worried. Fell, at least, was safe in Underswap for the time being. But Slim?

Even if he was somewhere guarded, he was more of a danger to himself than anyone else could ever be. He sent another text, hoping against hope.

It went unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you there would be spicyhoney-ish. you guys are just sluts.


	5. slim the trucks coming. oh my god he has headphones on. he cant hear us. oh my god.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slim shows up injured a lot, but this time? this time he has no idea what the hell to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS IN THE END NOTES!!!!**
> 
> title based on [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iHRrW5KTbw) video thats so fucking funny to me
> 
> [into the night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugrFTySNeQk)

It had been a long day at work. He enjoyed it, of course, meeting new people and being able to help in any way that he could- which usually consisted of being a positive representation of monsters to the humans who still disliked (hated) them. More humans were tolerant to monsters than hateful to them, and even if it was far from what they wanted, being ignored was better than being attacked. Though he didn’t help negotiate any of the new policies, he was the face for them alongside the King, smiling for pictures and answering questions designed to trip him up in his response. It was alright, though. The questions were alright. All he had to do was consider it as a riddle of sorts, and they were easy enough to solve. 

Oftentimes, it seemed like every day was a long day at work. 

He sighed as he pulled in the driveway, shaking his head of the thoughts and hopping out of his car. There weren’t any humans behind the fence, but a few of the more determined ones would be there soon enough. Papyrus nearly laughed as he thought back on tabloid magazines he had seen with his face on them, rumors of him having three long-lost twin brothers. He… wasn’t entirely sure how that worked, but the message got across regardless. It was more amusing than concerning. 

It took a few tries for him to pick the right key from his key ring- he really needed to start labeling them- but the door was opened eventually. He walked in the house and just. Stopped. 

It was a mess. Not the usual kind of mess, the one that came with living with Sans, but an actual  _ mess, _ dirtied cloth all over the floor in a trail that led to the kitchen. The table was out of place, cracked, and drawers were emptied on the floor in piles around the room. He felt his soul stop, finally recognizing the stains as blood, slamming the door behind him and running into the kitchen. 

He nearly tripped over himself when he saw Slim sitting on the floor, propped against a cabinet, entire body trembling. There was blood everywhere, smeared over his face and across the tiles of the floor and on the handles of the cabinets. Slim was hyperventilating, fingers digging into his upper arms, marrow trickling down the bone into a puddle on the floor.

Papyrus took a step forward, panic and genuine fear flooding his soul, flinching back when Slim faced him just to let out a snarl, his magic flaring up. The crack that was over his left eye was wider, the eyelight there dim, dried blood crusted around the new injury. Slim seemed to realize himself, snarl quieting as he gave something that was more of a grimace than a grin. 

“Slim?” His voice was shaky. He forced himself to stay calm. 

“In the flesh.” It was hoarse, the speech nearly slurred to the point of being gibberish. Slim swallowed with a wince. “Would you mind-?”

Papyrus was already moving, yanking open the drawer he kept the medkit in and kneeling down beside his friend. This close he could see the depth of some of the wounds, gashes and fresh cracks littering his neck and arms. Papyrus took out a pair of scissors, cutting off the other’s tank top, trying not to gag. One, two ribs were missing, most of the rest cracked, and the same kind of gashes littered his spine and the crests of his pelvis that he could see. Before he could stop himself, he was checking him, trying not to panic. 

It didn’t work. His HP was still dropping, slowly of course, but it was low enough that even that could prove deadly. 

“Slim,” he croaked, and he was surprised at how steady his voice was, “you need a hospital.”

“No,” he muttered, “no,  _ no, _ I can’t, I-“ he tried to get up, yelping and falling back down as it was too much in his current state.

“Okay,” he said, hands lifting in appeasement. “Okay. Just-”

He didn’t bother to finish, reaching into the kit and grabbing gauze, tape, whatever else he could find and trying to help. But it wouldn’t be enough. In the past he’d had medical training, of course, but for minor things. Not for missing bones, gashes that were so deep he could see the pulsing magic inside, not for HP that was dropping and that would continue to drop, even as he was working to stabilize him.

He wrapped what he could, pulling the bandages tight so the gauze would apply pressure to stop the bleeding. He checked him again. It was still dropping, and he liked to look on the bright side of things but there was no way that Slim was going to survive the night if they didn’t do something about his HP.

“I have to heal you,” he whispered. Slim tensed under him as he kept working, head snapping to look at him. His eyelights were flickering, the one that was dimmer than the other going out for a moment before it came back. 

“No.” Slim tried to move again, winced, held still once more.

Papyrus took in a shaky breath. “Slim, this isn’t something you can just slap a bandage on and be fine! Your HP is still dropping and it will keep dropping until I’m trying to help nothing but d-“ He stopped. Took a breath. “Please. You know that this isn’t something that can be fixed just with food and bandages.”

Slim looked away and took in a deep breath before he said “Fine,” teeth gritted and entire body tense.

Papyrus didn’t hesitate as he placed his hands on his shoulder and upper arm, focusing and letting his caring seep through, magic bringing his health back up to a stable level. Slim was still through it all, face viciously blank, body as unmoving as stone. Once it was good enough he took off his hands, letting it continue its slow drop down as he moved back to the bandages. He stopped the blood flow, set breaks, cleaned gashes and put fresh gauze over them, and all the while Slim didn’t even flinch, even when the alcohol wipe swept over the fresh crack on his skull.

“Are…” he placed another pad of gauze over a wound, taping it down. At this point, Slim was more bandage than skeleton. “Are you okay?”

There was a pause, long and deep enough that it seemed to stretch forever. And then he said “I’m fine” though he was obviously not, shaky and still fighting panic. 

He hadn’t run away, though. Maybe it was a testament to how injured he was, but Slim was still here, still sitting in his kitchen with his back against the cabinet and covered in wounds, when he knew that there was no way Papyrus would ever force him to stay. 

Papyrus sighed, scooting aside the med kit and sticking out a hand. Slim stared at it for a moment before he seemed to realize what was wanted, placing his own in it and allowing Papyrus to help him up. Despite the help, Slim was unable to fight down his hiss of pain as they started walking towards the couch. Papyrus shifted, allowing his hand to wander down to where he knew there were no broken bones or injuries of the like, adjusting his hold so that he was supporting a majority of the other’s weight. If Slim noticed, he didn’t say anything. They were almost to the couch when he heard the pop of the teleport.

The next moments went by in a blur.

Slim tensed, pushing away from him and turning around, eyes both flaming with magic and mouth pulled into a tight snarl. He raised his gloved hand, magic sparking in the air, malicious energy aimed towards Sans. It was something Sans could have dodged, either teleporting away or moving to the side far too quick than would seem possible otherwise, but in the moment he wasn’t thinking.

He launched himself in front of his brother, arms spread to either side and sockets shut tight.

There was a click, and he felt the familiar chill of blue magic pass through his body, making him shiver. He opened his sockets, looking over his shoulder at Sans- maybe a little shaken, very shocked, but not any worse for wear- before looking back to Slim.

His jaw was hanging open, something akin to fear resting in his sockets. A horrified-looking expression crossed his face as he looked down at his hands, clenching his gloved one tight.

“Slim.” Papyrus took a step forward, reaching a hand out appealingly. “It’s alright. Neither one of us are hurt. It’s okay.”

Slim let out a shaky breath, hands coming up to rub at his sockets. “Okay.” His hand slowly traveled up as Papyrus approached him, picking off the edge of the bandage unconsciously. “It’s fine. Not hurt. Not killed. Okay.” He kept muttering to himself, mantra of reassurances, not even stopping when Papyrus placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, moving to help him back to the couch.

Slim sat down, skull cradled in his hands and sockets fixed on the floor. He was hesitant to leave him, but Sans was motioning him towards the kitchen, the look in his eyes that of an older brother who was not willing to put up with things much longer. He sighed, casting a final concerned glance at Slim before following after. He placed himself in the doorway so that he could still see the other where he sat on the sofa.

“Papyrus.”

He looked at the ground, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I know.”

“What happened?”

There was no lying to Sans, and anyways he didn’t want to lie to him. “I came home to see him…” he gestured at the spot on the tiles, marrow smeared across the floor “and I tried to help any way I could.”

“He attacked us.”

“He was scared.” He rubbed his sockets. “Sans, please, I don’t want to argue.”

There was a pause, like Sans was deciding if he should continue to do just that, but anything that could be said was interrupted by a knock at the back door.

They looked at each other before Sans walked to the door, hands hesitating on the knob. 

“Who’s there?”

“I’m not dealing with your idiocy.” Papyrus wasn’t surprised it was Razz, voice coming through just as commanding even through the wood. 

Sans cracked open the door, skull blocking any view outside. Papyrus cast a hesitant look at Slim before making his way to the other two. 

“I’m not sure you understand the nature of these jokes.”

Razz didn't react beyond glaring at him, moving his steely gaze to Papyrus. “Is he here?”

“Who?” Sans asked. His grin was tight and Papyrus didn’t miss the way that his grip on the door increased though his body language remained relaxed. 

“My brother.” Razz looked up at him, ignoring Sans entirely. 

“Why would you think that he’s-“

“Yes.” Sans stopped, turning and giving him a confused look. He only shrugged in return. “He’s hurt very badly, but he’ll be fine.”

Razz nodded, a slight flicker appearing in his eyes before it was gone. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the time before he glanced up between them and into the house. He looked back at Papyrus. “Contact me once he’s recovered.”

Before he could agree to do so (or ask for clarification) Razz was making his way back across the backyard, heading to the shed. Sans closed the door, turning and looking at Papyrus expectantly.

“It wasn’t him,” he said. Sans sighed and rubbed his sockets with a yawn. Even so, Papyrus knew that his brother wouldn’t be sleeping at all tonight.

He walked over to the door, looking at the couch. Slim was still lying there, entire body straight and stiff as he rested. His sockets were shut, but he was most certainly not asleep.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Slim cracked open one of his eyes, grinning at him. The flicker of amusement that was usually in his sockets was gone, though. Papyrus could only hope that he hadn’t heard their conversation- if it could really be called as such- with his brother. 

He ignored the quip, opting to clear his throat. “It’s very late at this point, and with your injuries it would be best if you stayed the night.” He looked up, meeting the other’s eyes. “Please.”

Slim sighed but didn’t argue. “Yeah, okay. I’m not too sure that I can move right now anyways.”

Papyrus nodded, satisfied that he was at least okay for the time being, turning back and looking at the mess that was the kitchen. He walked over to the sink, shifting around in the area under it to find the cleaning supplies. Sans watched him as he gathered the materials, getting a mop and bucket from the closet before filling it with water in their average-sized sink.

“We can’t let him go back.”

Papyrus looked down, slightly in shock. Sans wasn’t looking at him, though, gaze fixed somewhere on the opposite wall. Papyrus just shook his head sadly. “I know, but we can’t stop him. What else can we do?”

“Look, I get it, it’s his choice, but even though he can be a bit of an obnoxious ass sometimes, he’s still y-” he stopped. Sighed. In that moment he knew that the brotherly concern applied to other versions of himself too. 

“I know,” he said. He took the bucket to the table, changing out his gloves for rubber ones after he added bleach and cleaner to the mix. Peroxide would work best, but it was late, and though he wasn’t  _ lazy _ he still wasn’t prepared to spend the next hour on his knees with a toothbrush.

When he moved to carry the bucket to the other side of the kitchen, Sans stepped in front of him. “Are we supposed to let him go back like that? Papyrus, you and I both know that he’ll get himself killed.”

He flinched. “Don’t say that.”

Due to his height, Sans wasn’t the hardest skeleton to sidestep. “You know that it’s true.”

“I know.” He set the bucket down, dipping the mop in the mixture before wringing it out. “I just… I really care about him. I don’t like to think about that.”

Sans looked at him, not saying anything as he picked the mop up from his scrubbing to dip it back in the water, starting the cycle over again. “Do you… want any help?”

If they were in any other situation at the moment, he would have gone into shock. Sans? Cleaning? “No, I can get it. I’ve already had my scheduled sleep this week.” He smiled, though it felt fake on his face. 

Sans chuckled, wiping a hand down his face. The scrape of bone of bone filled the otherwise awkward silence. “Alright, bro. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Papyrus nodded, and his smile became a little more genuine. “Goodnight, brother.”

Sans returned it, disappearing a moment after with a pop. Papyrus stared at the place that he had once occupied for a few long moments before shaking himself out of it. He doubled down, finishing cleaning the floor before moving on to scrub the counters. He checked on Slim every few minutes, but it seemed like the other really would be staying the night. 

As he cleaned he came across Slim’s jacket, shoved deep inside of the trash can. He frowned, pulling it out and lifting it up. There were no holes in it, no major tears. The zipper seemed fine and the stitching was as it should be. He was so focused on looking for any imperfections that he almost didn’t notice the faint glimmer of white power staining the ends of the sleeves.

He stopped, nausea overtaking him, but he forced it back down. There was no knowing where it had come from. He’d taken enough emergency medical classes to know that monsters would start to dust prematurely if their injuries were great enough. As awful as it was, Papyrus prayed to the Angel that the dust was Slim’s.

He set the coat down, vowing to wash it very thoroughly later (it had to be Slim’s dust so it was fine it was no different than the blood and marrow that had been covering the counter just moments before it was okay to just wash it) as he emptied out his bucket into the sink. He paused once he was done, looking around the area with satisfaction, before he pulled out his phone and called in to his “work.”

Tomorrow was going to be a personal day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS:** graphic depictions of injury, blood, broken bones, basically slim is injured as fucking hell, unhealthy attitude towards medicine/hospitals, suspicion of abuse (but not actual abuse), mentions of death
> 
> i feel like im getting way too fucking into this story, it goes downhill from here tho in terms of quality so leave while you can


	6. i'm going to kermit a crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feat. incredibly convenient entrances and pancakes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing too serious in this chapter i dont think. i mean slim is still injured but he's an asshole who deserves it so im sure no one's too upset by that fact
> 
> here's a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiYzjBH813w) that doesnt really fit the chapter but i like it

It was almost shockingly early when Slim woke up, head jerking up from the couch with a snort as he looked around the room. Papyrus poked his head out of the kitchen, smiling in relief as Slim met his eyes. The sort of panicked fight was no longer flickering in his gaze. Instead it was something calmer, not exactly peaceful but toeing on the edge of it. 

“I made coffee,” he said.

Slim pushed himself up, and Papyrus resisted the urge to walk over and help him. The last thing he needed was to accidentally push the other further away.

“I fucking hate coffee,” he responded with a grin, limping over to him. He stopped in the doorway, a hand clutching the wall to support himself as he stood. There was no way he was in any position to return.

“I share the sentiment,” he muttered, though it was loud enough that Slim could hear him, making the other snort in amusement. “Tea, then?”

“Just the bag.” He only smiled innocently when Papyrus threw him a look over his shoulder, face void of expression.

Regardless of his (disgusting) habits, Papyrus pulled out two tea bags, tossing one over to Slim before placing the other in a mug. He already had the water heating on the stove, and so he stood in wait for it to whistle. A scraping sound came from the table as Slim pulled out a chair, the tag of the tea hanging from his teeth as he sat down. Papyrus only sighed, turning back to the kettle. 

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Do you have any Cajun Souls of the Damned?”

Papyrus paused. Looked over his shoulder. “Sorry. I believe we’re fresh out.”

Before he could start listing breakfast foods that they  _ actually _ had, he heard a familiar shuffling gait making its way down the stairs. Papyrus blinked. There was no way that it was truly what he thought it was, right? It wasn’t even noon yet. Sans would  _ never- _ and especially not on his day off!

Sans rounded the corner, making his way to the table and plopping down beside Slim. “Hey bro.”

Papyrus just stared. “You’re. Awake.”

Sans winked. “Sure seems like it.” Slim snickered, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

Despite the fact that he was probably dreaming- even though he was pretty sure he didn’t fall asleep the night previous- he couldn’t help but grin, puffing out his chest and placing a hand on his chin. “I see that you’ve finally started to follow after my footsteps!”

“Yep.” Sans gave Slim a wink. “Waking up earlier means I can get even more naps in throughout the day.”

He paused, slowly coming out of the pose. “Sans. No.”

“Sans yes.”

He groaned, throwing up his hands in frustration as he turned back to the stove, taking the kettle off the heat and pouring his tea. The mock anger didn’t stay long, of course. “So,” Sans leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs, “have you guys decided on breakfast yet?”

Papyrus sighed, setting the tea down. “That was what we were talking about when you came in.”

“Well,” his brother said, “I have an idea.”

Sans stood, walking over to the doorway of the kitchen before he stopped and looked at them expectantly. Slim stood up, his wince barely noticeable, and walked over, leaving them just waiting for him. Papyrus turned off the stove, walking over.

“Any reason why we’re all gathered over here?”

Sans only winked, and before he realized what was happening the scenery around them changed drastically. He made a frustrated noise, looking around the Denny’s parking lot, trying to reign in his annoyance. “Sans! We’ve talked about the instant transportation!”

“Well, it’s a good think I teleported, then.”

He groaned, but Slim seemed to enjoy it, a hand wrapping over his bandaged ribcage as he laughed. “Any reason why we’re at the shitpost god of fast food chains?”

“It’s All You Can Eat Pancake Day.”

Slim’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really?!”

“Nah.”

The three of them stood still for a long moment before Slim looked to him. “Man. And to think, he capitalized it and everything.”

Papyrus looked around the parking lot, gaze catching on the rainbow sheen of oil in a few of the parking spaces. A lone plastic bag blew across the asphalt, catching in the bushes that lined the parking lot. Despite the time, the restaurant seemed surprisingly empty. He shook the thoughts from his head.

“Sans, we can’t eat here. Slim isn’t even wearing a shirt!” He gestured at the other, his mummified torso all the proof he needed. 

Slim hummed in agreement, placing a finger on his chin. “Paps is right. I need to take my pants off too so I match.”

If it weren’t for his injuries, Papyrus would have smacked him on the arm. He settled for a half-hearted glare. “No.”

Sans placed a finger in the air, winking at the pair as he pulled a shirt out of his inventory. It was large, entirely white aside from a green decal on the front. Closer examination showed that it was a picture of Kermit the Frog.

“I’m always two steps ahead,” he said, handing it to Slim. He seemed excited, carefully pulling it on- the bandages limited his range of movement, and even if they didn’t Papyrus was sure that any kind of motion at all caused intense pain, even if Slim wouldn’t show it- before turning to show him. The fabric was bunched in some places and stuck out awkwardly in others, the lumps of the bandages visible underneath. 

He sighed. Slim seemed excited about it, at least. “Alright, fine.”

Slim whooped, turning quickly and trying to sprint towards the doors. It was too much, and he stumbled and almost fell, catching himself at the last moment and straightening slowly. His movements were stiff, and as he looked back to see them both staring at him in concern he stood up straight, walking slowly and carefully to the entrance.

They shared a glance before they followed after. Slim was sitting down when they came in, having either already been seated or seating himself. It was an almost sleepy morning, only a few older couples dining at tables. The air inside smelled like bacon, and- despite the dead flies he could see inside the dim lights of the restaurant- he found himself growing hungry.

He sat beside Slim, Sans sitting across the table from them, and as he opened his menu he felt the other leaning heavily on his shoulder. Instead of opening his own, Slim had apparently decided that looking over his shoulder to order was the best option. He turned the menu so the other could see it better. 

“So.” Sans had his menu propped open on the table, blocking him from view. After a moment he knocked it down, the menu landing with a clatter on the table. The few customers around them all turned to look at the commotion. Papyrus offered them a sheepish smile in apology. Sans continued. “You planning on heading back after this?”

The waitress chose that opportune moment to walk over, pad flipped to a new page and pen ready. They ordered quickly, getting drinks as well, before they were alone once more.

“Yep!” Slim didn’t seem concerned. He reached over to the container of sugar packets on the table, grabbing a fistful of both natural and artificial sweeteners and shoving them in his pocket. Papyrus drummed his fingers on the table, trying to look nonchalant. He was almost certain he was pulling it off fairly well.

“Gonna eat and then head back! I got some things to take care of back home.”

The waitress came by, balancing a tray of drinks on one hand as she used the other to set them in front of them. “Your food’ll be out in a few,” she said. Her accent was thick. She grinned at them as she tucked the tray under her arm and walked to check other tables.

Papyrus turned to his drink, running a finger down the side where condensation was already forming, pulling back his hand and flicking the water once he was done. Beside him, he felt Slim turn, and he looked over just in time to see a spitball-loaded straw pointed directly at him. There was no time to react before it shot him in the forehead, making him give a shout of indignation as Slim laughed. It was enjoyable, almost, until Slim laughed a little too hard, breath catching on a swear as he doubled over, clutching the table like a lifeline and gritting his teeth. His free hand was wrapped around his rib cage.

“Yeah,” Sans said. His voice was tight. “You sure seem to be in good enough health to get back.”

Slim looked between the two of them, something flickering in his sockets. Then he straightened as much as he could, picking his straw up from where he had dropped it on the table and sticking it in his drink. “I’m just not used to it, is all. It’s not that bad.”

Papyrus sighed. “You’re missing two ribs.”

“I didn’t like those ribs anyways.”

The conversation halted once more as the waitress came by, setting a plate of pancakes in front of each of them. She smiled, and then left, leaving them to awkwardly pick at their food and hope to get back to a normal meal. Or as normal as a meal could be with Slim.

He glanced over at Slim as he started to eat, hunched almost protectively over his food, before his gaze trailed to Sans. He met his brother’s sockets. They shared a look, one of understanding and worry. And then they focused on their own meals, pancakes and syrup and awkward conversations. It took a few stilted subjects before it was comfortable again, joking as much as they could in the circumstances and doing their best to not acknowledge the metaphorical elephant in the room.

All too soon, the meal was over. The table was cleared, the check was dropped off, and then they were leaving a tip on the table and walking out, trying to pretend they couldn’t notice just how badly Slim was lurching to the side with every step. 

Papyrus blinked and then they were home, Slim still a few steps in front of them and making his way out the door to the machine. Sans went to follow but he stuck his hand out, stopping his brother.

“Don’t. I’ll… I’ll follow him and see if I can convince him to stay a while longer.” He forced a grin, taking in a calming breath. “I’m fairly stubborn. You can ask Undyne if you want hard proof!”

Sans gave a dry chuckle but motioned him forward anyways. The door had already slammed behind the other, but when Papyrus opened it Slim was barely halfway across the yard, stumbling like he would fall. He rushed forward in an effort to keep him up, but when Slim heard his footsteps he quickly straightened, offering him a strained grin like nothing was wrong. It was quiet for a moment before he sighed, looking away and walking towards the shed, reaching out and opening the door. Slim didn’t meet his eyes as he walked past, making his way to the machine.

Despite his promise to Sans, no real arguments were coming to his mind. Slim stepped up to the machine. 

“Your coat,” he blurted out, shocking both himself and Slim. When the other turned back to look at him, he coughed. “Your, uh, coat is still in the wash.”

It was a feeble attempt at getting the other to stay, and they both knew it. Slim shrugged. “I can come by some other time to pick it up once it’s done.”

Papyrus smiled, the expression forced. “Alright! Just making sure that you knew!”

No response. Slim tapped at the screen built in on the side, waited a few moments, and then frowned. He stepped closer with a muttered curse about useless technology, tapping at the screen again and looking at it closely. It was silent for a moment. With a sigh he looked down at the floor, waiting to hear the familiar tearing sound of a portal.

“M o t h e r f u c k e r.” Papyrus flinched at the venom in his tone, looking up in confusion. No portal. 

No anything, really, just a bright red error message on the screen above a bunch of coded text. Slim didn’t seem to notice his gaze, moving around to the side and forming an attack. He stuck it against the side of the machine, grunting as he used the bone to pop off the cover. There was really nothing he could do to help if the machine was broken. Sans would be able to help, though- and it was selfish beyond compare- if he  _ didn’t _ tell Sans, then it would take even longer for the other to fix. Slim would have to stay for another day, at least, if it was just a mistake with the coding.

So he turned, walking back to the house and letting the door click shut behind him. He closed his sockets for a moment before he gathered himself, shaking off the trappings of unlabeled emotion and looking around the kitchen. The mug of tea from earlier was still sitting on the counter. He touched the side. Cold. With a sigh he picked up the tag of the tea bag and dumped it in the sink, setting the mug on the counter to wash later as he dropped the used bag in the trash.

Soft footsteps drew his attention, making him look up to see Sans peering around the corner. There was a moment of silence between the two of them before his brother sighed, stepping into full view. “I’m guessing he wasn’t convinced?”

Papyrus shrugged, leaning against the counter. “There was something wrong with the machine, I think. Fixing it will keep him here longer, but…” The moment it was repaired he would be gone.

Sans frowned at that, furrowing his brow and glancing back towards the door. “It’s… broken?”

“Maybe?” He leaned forward slightly to look out the window. The door to the shed was still shut, and Slim wasn’t in the yard. He was either still working on it or had already fixed it without his notice. “It didn’t seem to be working right.”

“That’s… odd.”

Papyrus looked over at his brother, but Sans was focused on the phone in his hand, scrolling through what looked like walls of text. Before he could ask Sans was already saying “If it broke then I would’ve gotten some kind of alert for it.”

That was certainly odd, wasn’t it? Odd and… somewhat (very) concerning. He started to ask what could have happened then when the door came slamming in, nearly falling off the hinges.

Slim stormed in, agitated to the point that whatever weak magic he had in his reserves was sparking in his sockets and around his joints. His phone was pressed to the side of his skull, face twisted in an expression of anger. On the other line, Papyrus could hear a vaguely familiar but tinny voice, but before he could really place it Slim was screaming into the receiver.

“Fuck you too, then!” His arm came down quickly, teeth gritted tight as he threw the phone on the ground. The casing came off, the phone bent and near shattered, likely beyond repair. The silence was near suffocating. All the air seemed to have left the room the moment the phone shattered in pieces against the tile. 

And then Slim sighed, the tension not leaving his body exactly, but ebbing slowly away. He looked down at the scattered pieces of glass and metal before looking up to meet Papyrus’s gaze. “Why the hell did I do that?”

There wasn’t a good answer to that- not one that he knew, at least, and Sans seemed more than content to just sweat silently in the corner- so he just shrugged, watching Slim bend over with a grimace as he started to pick up the pieces.

“Let me,” he muttered, finally stepping into action. The smaller pieces were falling through the spaces of the bones in Slim’s left hand, and so he carefully reached over and swept the specks into his own palm, picking up the larger ones when he could. 

They were done soon enough, Slim standing upright and stumbling a bit, teeth gritted and face paler than, well, bone. He reached out with his free hand, steadied him. Slim looked at him then, hollow and unsure for a fraction of a moment before it was gone and he was grinning once more. “I don’t suppose you have any tape for this, do you?”

Papyrus sighed, stubbornly keeping his hold on the other and leading him into the living room. “I’m sure we have some somewhere.”

He sent a pointed look Sans’s way, and a flicker of understanding crossed his brother’s gaze before he coughed into his fist. “I’ll see if I can find any for your-“

“Sans.”

“- _ sticky _ situation.”

Papyrus rolled his eyes with a huff, waiting until Sans disappeared with a pop to set Slim onto the couch, placing the broken shards of phone on the table in front of him. Slim sighed, leaning forwards and propping his elbows on his knees, carelessly tossing the pieces on the table.

It was quiet for a moment. “Did you know?”

Papyrus looked down at him. “What?”

“My brother disconnected the machine in our universe. No way for me to travel home.” Slim looked up at him, face blank. “Did. You. Know.”

“I…” He looked away. 

_ ‘Contact me once he’s recovered.’ _

“No. But your brother asked me to contact him when you were recovered enough to go back.”

“Great!” Slim clapped his hands on his legs, standing quickly. If the movement was painful, then he didn’t show it. “So call him and tell him that I’m here and practically shitting rainbows, and I’ll be out of your way!” Though he was smiling, it was anything but friendly.

“Even if I were to, what then?” The anger in his own voice surprised him. He hadn’t realized that he had been clenching his fists. “Razz obviously wouldn’t believe me. And besides!”

He gestured broadly at the other. “Look at yourself! Your HP is stable, but you’re still injured! If you went back like this, then…” he trailed off.

The scary thing was that he didn’t  _ really _ know what would happen if Slim went back in his current state. He took in a steady breath, trying to calm himself down. “I’m worried about you. I’m worried because every time you come over it’s always because you’re hurt, and I’m worried because I’m not ignorant and I  _ know _ that you would be in so much danger if you went back like this! I won’t stop you, but please, just…” He reached out before he stopped just short of touching the other, pulling his hand back at the last moment. “Until you’ve recovered. Stay.” 

Slim stared at him for a moment, considering, before he dropped his gaze, fixing it on the floor. The silence held for a moment longer before Slim turned, going back to sit on the couch. He nodded, eyes still cast down.

Papyrus tried to hide the relieved smile that threatened to break out on his face, but in the end he couldn’t help it, relief flooding his soul and making him grin. A pop sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Sans walking through the kitchen. His brother’s eyes searched his face, seeing his relief, and the slight tension that was around his sockets disappeared after a moment. 

“Got ya some tape.” As proof Sans pulled the roll out of his pocket, giving it a small shake before he tossed it onto the couch beside Slim. 

He picked it up, turning it in his hands before sticking his hand through the hole in the center, letting it hang off his wrist. “Actually,” he said, placing a finger on the outside and spinning it around his wrist. “Now that I think about it, a glue stick might be better.”

Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **me, staring out a window and thinking of all the things i need to write:** _hello darkness my old friend~_


	7. hey, how about you despaci-DON"T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a wonderful movie chapter! and everyone is sober too!!
> 
> [despacito 3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2VhCxRB-TM) is such a jam tbh, really upholds the original U_U

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **minor warnings** in the end notes??? not sure if i need to tag it but better safe than sorry!

The house was quiet when he got home. He frowned, more than a little worried since every other time he’d gotten home the past week, Slim had been blaring “Despacito” from every available speaker he could find. He shut the door, locking it and slipping off his shoes, looking around the house. A faint odor, like smoke and something sour, filled the air.

He called Slim’s name, but when there was no answer he started up the stairs, deciding to look for him.

Leaving Slim alone when he went to work was hardly his favorite thing to do, but when every moment possible was filled with meetings and smiling for cameras he wasn’t left with much free time. At least Sans took enough breaks from his jobs to come home every so often and check on the other, even if it meant that he was being lazy once more. The smell was stronger at the top of the stairs, more sour, making him wrinkle his nasal aperture as he pushed open his door, looking around.

The air was hazy, and he traced the source to the crack beneath his closet, small tendrils of smoke drifting out over the carpet before fading into the air. He frowned, walking forwards, disturbing the smoke with his footsteps as he pulled open the closet door. Smoke poured out into his room, making him cough and wave a hand in front of his face at the smell. His sockets watered as he coughed, but once he was certain the air was clear enough he gave a closer look into the dim and smoky closet, a familiar skeleton sitting in the center, eyes closed and face almost peaceful.

“Slim?” He asked, trying to grab the other’s attention. Slim hummed slowly opening his left socket, then his right, eye lights hazy and unfocused before they locked on him, making him grin.

“Hey, Paps.” His drawl was stronger. When he started to push himself up, Papyrus leaned forward to help him, placing a careful hand around his rib cage, hooking under his arm and picking him up. Most of Slim’s weight was slumped on him, which wasn’t saying much as Slim was fairly scrawny to begin with.

“What were you doing?” The ash in the plate that was on the floor gave him a fairly good idea.

“Hotboxing a closet!” He chirped. Slim started to push away from his hold and, after making sure the other wouldn’t fall, he let him go, watching the way his ribs hitched with his breath when they expanded too much. “By the way,” he said in a stage whisper, leaning closer like he was sharing a secret, “if the clothes smell bad you’ll have to wash them.”

“Good to know.” He sighed, bending and grabbing the plate covered in ashes, thankful Slim had taken some thought into making sure that he didn’t make such a mess.

For a moment he considered opening the window to air out his room, but he immediately dismissed it. Though the legislation on such was becoming looser, the last thing he needed was for tabloids to report the obvious smell wafting out of his window. Sometimes, he wished he wasn’t so popular.

When he turned, he saw that Slim had already made his way out of the room. The stumbling thud of footsteps could be heard on the stairs, and with a final glance back at the smoky closet he left, plate held in one hand while the other reached out to steady his friend. “So,” he said, leading Slim to the couch, “you brought drugs with you?”

Slim waved a hand in his direction. “Nah. Bought them from a high schooler! Emphasis on _high._ ” He grinned, obviously proud of himself.

Papyrus glared at him as he walked into the kitchen, turning on the faucet just long enough to rinse off the plate before setting it down to clean later, making his way back into the living room. “Why did you go and do something like that?”

Instead of responding, Slim hummed, shutting his sockets once more. He brought his hands up, ungloved left rubbing small circles into his gloved right. “Nicer. More peaceful.”

After that he stopped, sockets opening to narrow at the ceiling, before he snorted, looking at Papyrus smugly. “Pft, good one there. You almost had me talking about feelings for a second.”

He sighed, deciding not to argue, making his way over to the couch and sitting beside Slim. He checked the clock that hung just above the door. Sans wouldn’t be home for another few hours, especially if he stopped at Grillby’s like he usually did on nights that he didn’t have to work. Until then, there had to be some way to kill the time.

“Would you want to watch a movie?”

Slim looked over at him before his gaze shifted to the television, glaring at it almost suspiciously. “What _kind_ of movie?”

He pushed himself up from the couch, walking over to their cabinet. Being on the surface meant having greater access to movies that the humans had made aside from the ones that were thrown in the dump, and because of that, he’d greatly expanded his tastes. He let his hands brush over the DVD cases, looking at the titles, before stopping one of his favorites. “What about one of Mettaton’s movies?” MTT was his favorite sexy rectangle, and there was a chance Slim shared the same thoughts.

Slim visibly perked up, blinking, before he snorted. “Oh, right, this MTT is the popular one.” He shrugged. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Papyrus put the disc in the DVD player, waiting until the loading was done to go back to the couch, remote in hand. “What’s your MTT like?”

He asked it carefully, knowing that Slim was very cautious about talking about his own universe. Hopefully, the question was casual enough that he could get an answer.

“He does a lot of theater shit.” He shifted, yawning and leaning into Papyrus like he was trying to get comfortable. “Mostly tragedies, some things that he’d wrote himself. They’re actually really good.”

Papyrus glanced down at the top of the other’s skull before lookin back at the TV, navigating through the options. His shoulder was warm where the other was pressed against him. “Maybe you could show me sometime.”

Slim yawned. “Yeah. Sometime.”

He tried not to let his disappointment show, which wasn’t hard as Slim curled further into his side, a hand draped across his lap. The sour smell was stuck to his clothes, his bones, as thin and riddled with cracks as they were. His jacket wasn’t fixed yet, even if it had been washed, tears still covering the sleeves, the sides, the back. Thinking about the violence to the material made him wince at what it meant for Slim, and so he forced the thoughts from his mind, focusing on the movie. It would be fixed soon enough. Like it never even happened, he thought, gaze flicking back down to the bunched material of bandages that covered his body. Like _this_ never happened.

He looked back up at the movie, watching as Mettaton (in a wig) started to flirt with Mettaton (wearing a hat). “Smooth,” Slim muttered as one managed to get the other’s number and the screen faded to black for the next scene.

It was hard to focus on the movie as he thought about what would lie ahead. He thanked the Angel for a monster’s enhanced healing ability, but couldn’t help but hate it all the same, as every day was a day closer to Slim going back. And possibly never _coming_ back.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Slim staring at him until the other shifted, bringing their faces closer together. Papyrus went to ask what was wrong but stopped, seeing the look in Slim’s eyes. It was focused, his eyelights sharp and not hazy, and the shock held him still long enough for the other to move forward more, pressing their teeth together.

It was unexpected, sudden, and the realization of the fact that they were _kissing_ made him jerk involuntarily, his arm jerking around and hitting Slim in the ribs. Air rushed against his teeth as Slim hissed, curling over with a hand covering his injury. Papyrus let out a startled sound, scooting back as quickly and gently as he could before reaching his hands out, stopping just before touching the other.

“I-I’m sorry! Sorry! Are you… okay?”

Slim was silent long enough for a new bud of worry to blossom in his chest, and he was about to go grab the med kit just to feel like he was doing _something_ when he recognized the wheezing coming from the other as laughter. Slim looked up then, tears glistening in the corners of his sockets but mouth pulled into a grin, looking for all the life of him like he hadn’t just been kneed in the side where he was missing a rib or two.

“Doing great,” he said, before he was up once more and pressing against him with greater urgency.

It was easier resisting his knee-jerk reaction this time, nose flooding with the same sour smell of smoke that he was starting to associate with Slim. Hands wrapped around his shoulders, slowly pushing him back until he was pressed against the arm of the couch. In the background, the movie was still playing, but all he could focus on at the moment was Slim’s tongue swiping over his teeth, the weight of the other as he straddled him. He opened his mouth, his own tongue meeting the other’s, and the bitter taste was enough to snap him back into the present.

He broke off the kiss, catching his breath. “Slim.” The other didn’t seem to hear him, head delving down to the junction of his shoulder, the same warm tongue trailing over the bones there.

That was _enough._

He pressed both his hands to Slim’s shoulders, pushing him back as quickly as he could without seriously hurting him. From his position, he was able to see the shock, then confusion, and then panic flash across Slim’s face.

Slim swore, launching himself back and hitting the other arm of the couch hard enough that it had to hurt. “Shit. Shit. Sorry. Not trying to- If you don’t want to- I was just- Yeah, so sorry.”

He was tripping over himself as he spoke, gaze directed to the floor and foot twitching with anxious energy. He was quick to reassure him. “No! No, it was good!” Heat rose to his face as he said such, but reassuring Slim was more important. “Just… not while you’re like this.”

For a moment, Slim just. Stared. Like what he said didn’t make any sense, like he started to speak in another language out of nowhere. The silence lasted long enough that Papyrus started to wonder if he’d said something wrong. But then Slim chuckled, and then started into full blown laughter. And then it faded into something softer and he moved forward, crawling and laying his head on Papyrus’s chest. He hesitated for a moment before he placed a hand on the other’s back.

“You know something, Paps? You’re pretty damn cool.”

“I know,” he said, running a gentle hand down the other’s back, over the bumps of bandages and ribs.

“Too cool to like me,” he muttered, almost soft enough that he couldn’t hear. “I’d rather you hate me.”

The words sent a pang of _something_ through his SOUL. “I could never hate you,” he assured him. “You’re… I care about you. A lot.”

Slim snorted, turning his face into his chest. “Why? I’m an awful person.”

“Maybe,” he said, not stopping the motion of his hand, “but you’re a very good skeleton!”

Slim laughed again, quieter, and then went silent. Papyrus looked down at the crack that now stretched halfway across the other’s skull, at bones puckered with needle marks and scars and discolorations. He looked back at the movie, watching as the two Mettatons danced a highly choreographed routine to win the talent competition to save their school.

As he watched, his free hand came up, brushing against the front of his teeth, light enough that he could barely feel it. For a moment, he found himself wondering if the next kiss would taste just as bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS:** dubious consent in terms of kissing (as slim is um. not sober??? but papyrus is the coolest so dont worry about it man)


	8. damn, that fish is fucking WHIPPED!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "look," i say to the ten people that read this fic, "he's getting better! everything is fine!" thankfully, none of you can see my fingers crossed behind your screens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna go ahead and give y'all a warning: the quality of this fic is all downhill from here, so if you really want just pretend that it ends with them making out and then making some babies (and also obama was there)

The next few weeks passed about as well as he had thought they would. Convincing Slim to not hotbox his closet had been more of a challenge than he had hoped. Convincing him not to hotbox his  _ room _ was somehow even more difficult. Papyrus had eventually told Slim that he couldn’t smoke anywhere in the house, at which point Slim used his surprisingly decent baking skills to make brownies of questionable content. The last thing he needed was for anyone other than Slim to eat the drugged sweets, so he’d written “DO NOT EAT FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON” on a piece of paper and left it beside the plate. He wasn’t entirely sure that it would work, but it was worth a shot.

Slim was sitting shotgun at the moment, legs bouncing quickly and hand picking at the edge of his glove. He’d done well in terms of recovering. His wounds were healing, cracks mending, and though a majority of them would leave scars they wouldn’t have much of an effect beyond being a reminder of whatever had happened. He’d even asked Alphys if she would be willing to act as a sort of physical therapy instructor as things started to heal. Papyrus was glad that Slim was getting better. He was! Anyone who cared about their friend would be glad.

...

But it was bittersweet.

Slim was getting better, yes, but Papyrus could tell he was getting stir crazy. Slim wanted to go back. And Papyrus couldn’t keep him from doing so-  _ wouldn’t _ keep him- but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t trying to think of some way to get him to stay just a little bit longer, some way to delay the inevitable. But the date was marching towards them regardless, and there wasn’t a thing that he could do about it.

“Papyrus?” He looked over to see Slim giving him a look of confusion. “You know we passed their house, right?”

Papyrus glanced in his rearview mirror, seeing Alphys and Undyne’s house slowly receding in the distance. He cleared his throat. “That was on purpose.”

He slowed down, checked around him, and made a U-turn, tactfully ignoring Slim snickering to his right. His annoyance was short-lived as they parked in front of the home, locking the car and making their way towards the house. He knocked twice and only had to wait for a few moments before the door made a whirring sound, the camera that he  _ knew _ was hidden somewhere cataloguing their appearance and magical signatures before the door split in two, sliding into hidden compartments in the wall. 

They had barely made it a few steps in before a familiar, booming voice gave a battle cry. “You’re LATE!”

He sighed before shouting back. “BY TWO MINUTES!”

“NO EXCUSES!”

Undyne rounded the corner moments later, mouth pulled into a grin. It faded into more of a cringe of annoyance when her eye drifted over to Slim. “Glad to see you’re still alive.” She sniffed the air, face wrinkling into one that was closer to disgust. “God, you smell like weed. You’re lucky you’re Paps’s friend, punk.”

Slim grinned back, obviously unbothered. “Well, you smell like fish!”

Papyrus glanced between the two of them, apprehension building. One look at Slim let him know that the other was planning on making some kind of inappropriate joke.

“Really?” Undyne’s fins flared, yellow gaze narrowing. She was annoyed, of course, but Papyrus knew she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel some sort of friendly fondness towards Slim.

Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t throw him out of a window if pushed too far.

“And just how the hell am I supposed to help that?”

Slim’s grin stretched impossibly wider, and in that moment Papyrus realized where the conversation was going. Oh. Oh no.

“Well, you could close your le-”

Papyrus slapped a hand over Slim’s mouth, wrapping an arm around his ribcage and hurrying him away. “OKAY, THANKS FOR LETTING US IN UNDYNE WE’RE GOING TO FIND ALPHYS NOW!”

They rounded the corner, Undyne following close behind and radiating frustration. Slim didn’t seem to mind at all, going so far as to send a wink over his shoulder. Undyne’s grimace of a smile became wider. Papyrus walked faster.

Their trio reached the back room in record time, Undyne grumbling the entire way. Alphys jumped slightly when they entered the room before she gave a nervous laugh, adjusting her glasses before sliding off her chair, padding her way towards them.

“H-Hey!” She pushed her glasses up again, despite the fact they were already high on her snout. “How have you been?”

Slim shrugged. “Good.”

It was an obvious lie, but Alphys didn’t delve into it, and for that much Papyrus was greatful. Slim had very little trust in her, and though he would likely never state why, Papyrus knew that the Alphys of his universe was less than kind. Alphys continued asking questions, growing more comfortable in her element even if Slim wasn’t exactly responsive. He was so focused on the pseudo-checkup that he didn’t notice Undyne sidle up next to him until she gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow.

“Hey, Paps, come with me to the kitchen for a minute.”

Papyrus gave her a curious look but followed anyways. “I didn’t think we’d be cooking?”

“Nah, not today.” She rolled her eye with a huff, raising her hands to make air quotes. “Apparently I’m a ‘danger to myself without supervision.’”

Papyrus frowned. “But the dangerous aspect is what makes it fun!”

“EXACTLY!” She spread her arms, exasperated, but quickly glanced over her shoulder at Alphys to ensure she hadn’t heard.

Surprisingly, the shout didn’t seem to bother her as she spoke to Slim, checking the flow of magic through his injuries and directing him to form small attacks. Undyne cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her before she nodded in the direction of the table, walking around and setting herself in the seat facing the door. He pretended not to notice that she placed herself in clear view of Slim, instead taking his seat across from her and giving a wide smile.

“Did you want to talk about something?”

There was a pregnant pause as she glanced from him to the pair in the other room before leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Something you wanna tell me?” 

When he didn’t say anything in response she frowned, but there was a flare of determination in her eye that flickered bright enough for him to be the slightest bit worried about what it meant for him. The table creaked as she leaned forward, pressing her elbows down, a grin stretching across her face. “C’mon, Papyrus. We’re friends!”

He hummed, glancing to the side. “I’m feeling vaguely threatened?”

“Good.” She laughed, leaning back and and grinning. “But seriously. What’s the deal with you and mister I Don’t Know What Soap Is?”

He sighed. “First of all, Slim knows what soap is.” They’d had a conversation not too long ago about carving inappropriate shapes and symbols into the bars of soap in the shower. “Secondly, there is no ‘deal’ between us!”

Papyrus gave a sharp nod after stating such, affirming how true it was. Despite his nod, Undyne didn’t seem to believe him, simply giving him an unamused stare. He swallowed. Unfortunately for her, he was not one to crack under pressure!

“Have you two made out?”

…

Their visit was quickly turning out to be something along the lines of mortifying.

Papyrus groaned, burying his face in his hands. Undyne laughed, hard, slamming her palm on the table. “CALLED IT!” She leaned forward, standing from her chair to loom over the table. “And lucky for you, I’m here to help!”

He looked up from his hands, trying his best to keep his expression neutral. It wasn’t too long ago that Undyne tried to tell Alphys about her feelings and ended up throwing her in a trash can. Luckily for Undyne, he was there to help train Alphys in self-confidence, likely resulting in their getting together in the first place.

Papyrus shook his head as Undyne leaned further across the table, almost dangerously unbalanced. “Before you offer to help, do you have any non-anime advice?”

Her eye narrowed, a yellow slit focused threateningly on him as she leaned back, sitting down in her seat once more. “...What’s wrong with anime, punk?”

“Oh, nothing!” He smiled. “I love shows for babies!”

“SHUT UP PAPYRUS!” He just shrugged, which only seemed to aggravate her further.

He glanced over his shoulder as she continued to argue her side (making several valid points), back into the other room. Slim caught his gaze, his foot tapping rapidly on the floor as he glanced between himself and Undyne. Off to the side Alphys was holding some small piece of equipment. Whatever she was saying was too quiet for Papyrus to hear, but it wasn’t long after she stopped talking that Slim formed a few small attacks, letting them hover in the air as he stooped down to pick up a small weight by his feet. Papyrus gave him a discreet thumbs up and a reassuring smile. Slim didn’t smile back, but the slight bleed of tension from his shoulders was enough.

Undyne gave a sharp huff as she sat down, bringing him back to the present. “Since you obviously can’t understand the cultural genius of anime, I’ll try to find a way to work around it.” It was better to agree with her at this point, so he simply nodded. “I’m gonna ignore all the reasons that I hate the dude and try to help. What kind of stuff does he like?”

Papyrus paused, thinking. That… was a difficult question to answer. What  _ did _ Slim actually like? “Well… he likes drugs… and obscure meme and pop culture references.”

Undyne took in a deep breath. “Hate to tell you this, but he doesn’t exactly seem like your type.” She clicked her tongue, dropping her hands to the table. “Alright, it’s settled! You drop this guy since he’s absolute garbage and go for someone who’s worth it. I’d suggest that one leather-clad version of you.”

There was a moment of silence. “Undyne, I’m not going to do that.”

Undyne pressed her lips together, huffing as she looked off to the side. The sound of her nails drumming on the table filled the air. “Fine. But what reason do you even have to like this guy?”

He’d… never really thought of it before. Or, he had, but usually his thoughts cut themselves off with a sort of exasperated fondness. The room felt a bit warmer than it had before, despite him not having any skin. “Well, he’s… He’s strong, and fairly caring! He just doesn’t know how to show it. He’s kind, even if he doesn’t think so, and he’s selfless to the point of being a danger to himself. He doesn’t think much about himself, or his life, and so he doesn’t really take care of himself, but… I want to be there when he sees himself in a better light. There’s potential to be good, even if he doesn’t see it!”

Saying it out loud only reaffirmed his feelings, and the warmth he felt in his soul moved up to his cheekbones.

“I think I might actually puke.”

“Undyne!”

She laughed, waving him off. Not that he would, but he could easily point out her mannerisms before she’d started dating Alphys. “Alright, fine. If you think this guy is worth it, I won’t argue. So, you just need to confess your ULTIMATE FEELINGS!”

He only stared at her. “I’m not entirely sure that’s the best course of action.”

She scoffed. “Look, with this guy? All of your advances are going to be turned down by a joke. So you gotta go for the jugular!”

It was silent for a moment. “What’s a ‘jugular’?”

Undyne shrugged. “I dunno. Something humans have, I think? Frisk said it once when they were in one of their ‘moods.’” 

Papyrus nodded at that, completely understanding.

Undyne opened her mouth, likely to say something else, but she stopped, closing her mouth and glancing over at the door. Papyrus looked over, seeing Alphys standing in the doorway, hands playing with the edge of her sleeve. “Um. H-he left.”

Papyrus stood, looking at her in confusion. “What?”

Alphys gave a nervous chuckle, taking off her glasses to polish them on the bottom of her shirt. “Th-there were a bunch of h-holes in his arm, a-and with th-the way he was acting, I j-just…” She flinched, taking in a shaky breath. “I asked if he’d recently d-done drugs, and he j-just… Oh, I r-really messed up.”

Undyne stood, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor. “Are you okay?”

The look of shock that crossed Alphys’s face was somewhat reassuring. “Oh! N-no, no, I’m fine.” The lenses of her glasses made her eyes look bigger than they actually were as she looked to Papyrus. “Y-your friend j-just ran out. Sorry.”

Papyrus quickly reassured her that it was fine, that Slim was just funny like that sometimes and that he was okay, all the while avoiding Undyne’s critical glare. He excused himself, hurrying out to see Slim pacing back and forth beside his car. The other didn’t look up as he approached, instead stepping over the door through the open roof as he got closer. He unlocked the doors, Slim fastened his seatbelt as he got in, and then they were pulling out of the driveway and heading back to the house. It was quiet in the car. Despite the fact that Slim was turned slightly away from him, knees touching the car door and gaze fixed outside the car, he couldn’t help but feel the need to fill the silence.

“Did… Was everything okay?”

Slim chuckled: a dry sort of noise. “About as peachy as it could be, all things considered.”

Papyrus nodded, and then it was quiet again. Of course, he knew that Slim would lie to him, would probably do so easily, but if there had been any problems then Alphys would have likely told him, or at least pointed them out. Despite his lack of expertise in monster biology, he knew that Slim was healing, and healing fairly well. Regular food and a lack of whatever was the reason he would get injured in the first place was likely why his injuries were all but gone.

They made it to the house not much later, Papyrus thumbing over the automatic door to the garage, startling the slightest bit when Slim took the opportunity to hop out, hands shoved deep in his pockets and head angled down. Papyrus frowned as he watched him walk to the front door- unlocked, so Sans must have been home- disappearing from sight. He parked, got out, walked to the door that led into their house and dropped his keys in the basket beside it.

The TV was on, but Sans (to his surprise) wasn’t on the couch. The cushions were slightly dented in, though, a blanket draped over the seat and hanging onto the floor. If he was quiet, he could hear the sound of voices upstairs, the door to the guest bedroom- Slim’s bedroom for the past few weeks- cracked open. Sans was talking to him, then.

He sighed, slightly relieved. Sans would be able to help, or at least calm Slim down. Until then, he could start on dinner.

Papyrus rolled up his sleeves as he walked into the kitchen, going through the mental checklist to make Albino Spaghetti. Heavy cream, butter, garlic, parmesan… he set them on the counter as he moved, sliding bowls across the counter and grabbing a pan and pot, half-focused on making the meal and half on listening for any noise from upstairs. Papyrus stopped, hand halfway reaching to turn the heat up on the stove, when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

They were too quiet to be Slim, the other’s steel-toed-boots too heavy to do much other than stomp, and so he wasn’t shocked when Sans peered around the corner.

“Is he okay?” He asked. It was a stupid question, really. If you asked Slim at any given moment, he was typically doing “terrible.” 

Sans knew what he meant. “He seemed stressed about something. Wouldn’t say what. I think he just needs some time to himself.”

Papyrus nodded, going back to making dinner and watching Sans recede back into the cushions from the corner of his sockets. It wasn’t long before he was done, only having to wait for everything to heat up and for the noodles to boil, and so he wiped his hands off on a towel and left to check on Slim.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, sockets narrowing at the faint but distinct sound of thudding coming from the other’s room. He walked, slowly, pushing open the door that was barely cracked in the first place to peer in. Slim was standing, his back to the door, jacket thrown off to the side, his entire posture tense as he slammed his fists into a punching bag that Papyrus didn’t know the other had. There was no break between the blows, and he was about to step in and stop the other from hurting himself before Slim froze, entire body rigid until it drained out of him with a sigh.

“I can’t do this anymore, Papyrus.”

He pushed open the door and stepped into the room, tapping it with his heel so that it drifted back to being cracked. “What do you mean?” He knew what Slim meant.

“I mean I have to go back. I can’t keep staying here. I need to go back.” Slim turned, and Papyrus pretended not to notice the bruise of magic forming on the other’s knuckles.

He wanted to argue but he couldn’t,  _ knowing _ that Slim was well-recovered, that he wanted to go back, and in the end it was up to him but he couldn’t make him stay if he wanted to go. And so he nodded. “Okay,” he said, quieter than he would have liked, “I’ll let Razz know.”

Slim turned away from him, relief in his posture. Papyrus left him alone after that, pulling out his phone and sending a quick message before walking back into the kitchen. 

The water was boiling.

He didn’t really feel like cooking anymore.


	9. this chapter is honest to god the worst one in the fic so far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im gonna keep it real with you guys. this is a filler chapter because i needed a lead in to the next chapter. rip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMf94TPJVGE) song fucking slaps, not sure it has anything to do with this chap, but hey. fuck you

It was the same thing, over and over again, and it was to the point where he wasn’t sure why he even bothered worrying about it. But that was a lie, of course. He knew exactly why he worried, knew exactly why every ignored text, every call that went straight to a voicemail that was already full, made him grip his phone a bit tighter as he ran through any explanation he could for the silence. First, it was just that he was busy. Then he’d lost his phone. Then it was that maybe Slim had  _ thought _ he had responded, but didn’t.

Or- and it hurt to even think about it, but it was preferable to anything happening to the other- maybe Slim just got sick of dealing with him. It hurt, but Papyrus wouldn’t blame him. The countless texts and calls likely did nothing but annoy him. And so, just as suddenly as he had started caring, he forced himself to stop. To stop calling, stop texting. The last thing he wanted to do was give up on Slim, but if the other wanted nothing to do with him then all he could do was accept it and smile and force himself to focus on something else. Anything else.

And it wasn’t like nothing else was going on.

Monsters had been working on receiving rights for a while. Peaceful protests, bills, marches, support from other groups, all of that was going into making the surface a better place for everyone. There were meetings with the King and other officials, rights to vote in state elections, equal workforce opportunities, the list went on, and every step that was made resulted in the media blowing up. Papyrus had long since given up trying to keep track of every message sent to him, especially since it seemed that even a sneeze from Frisk or the King would cause countless humans to swarm them, asking their thoughts, poking and prodding and shouting as if they were trying to get them to slip up.

Even on days when nothing was happening, there were always a few particularly stubborn humans going up to any monster they could find, asking questions like they were just waiting for the wrong answer. With the recent push for monsters to be included in the government itself, voted into positions, it seemed like every human- reporter or not- was questioning him about it.

Even on a day off, his normal battle body off in exchange for jeans and a shirt, trying to have a  _ normal _ hangout with his friends, it was practically chaos. He was used to hearing whispers whenever he went out with Frisk, his combined presence with the various controversies about their family enough to draw the attention of anyone. When combined with Alphys fiddling with various parts on the table, sparks occasionally coming from her magic and the metal, and Undyne’s appetite (She ordered everything from the- admittedly small- menu. Twice.) he would be surprised if everyone’s eyes  _ weren’t _ on them.

He didn’t like the attention, though. 

Didn’t like sitting, minding his own business- aside from telling Undyne to  _ maybe _ not ask for thirds- only to have a human come up, phone at the ready. The hateful ones, he could deal with. The ones that shouted angry insults, because though not everyone was as Merciful as he would wish, they didn’t listen to the hate, and a scene would usually result in someone stepping in, whether it was another customer or the workers themselves. But the ones that were calm, that from all outer appearances seemed reasonable, that kept their voices low and smug, confidently doing everything they could to get a reaction…

Those humans proved to be more difficult.

The human introduced themself, condescending enough that Undyne looked at him with a raised brow, mouthing ‘really?’ Papyrus greeted them nonetheless, hoping they would decide against whatever they were planning to do. Unfortunately, they didn’t.

“I was just wondering what, exactly, your thoughts are on the increased push for monsters in legislation.” Their gaze flicked to Frisk, a motion that made Undyne tense up. “I’d also like to know your thoughts on your caretaker’s actions.”

“My  _ parents,” _ Frisk muttered, but anything else they would have said was interrupted by Undyne clearing her throat.

“Look, p-” She cut herself off, giving a grin that was more teeth than kindness. “I’m pretty sure you can find the responses you’re looking for in interviews that have already been conducted. We’re trying to have lunch, at the moment.”

“Oh, I know,” the human said, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze but not backing down. Papyrus gave a closer look at their SOUL, a muted sort of yellow. They believed they were doing what was right, then, even with the hate he could see that was corrupting their aspect. “I just want to know why, exactly, you are all supporting such intense change. Wouldn’t it make much more sense to push for small changes, one after the other? Most of them seem, no offence, fairly stupid given the resistance you get with them.”

Undyne’s fins flared, and Papyrus could tell she was about to get up and do something that would end badly for them all. He reached across the table and set a hand on her arm before standing himself, looking down at the human. He smiled, and if it looked different than normal, well, the human was standing rather close to him, and he was much taller than they were, so the angle would be much different!

“Monsters have been trapped underneath of Ebott for millenia. Now that we’ve reached the surface- something that so many of us have dreamed of our whole lives- I think we’ve waited long enough.” He waved his hand, signaling to the waiter to bring a check. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we don’t have anywhere to be!”

They stepped away as they walked out, Papyrus handing the waiter enough money to cover the meal and a tip, leaving the restaurant with his friends in tow. It wasn’t until they got into Undyne’s car that he realized he may have overstepped a boundary, having everyone leave before they were ready. He cleared his throat as they pulled out of the lot. 

“Um… Sorry! About leaving!”

Undyne snorted, twisting in a way that had to be uncomfortable to look at him with a sharp-toothed grin, letting go of the wheel as she did so. The car beeped once before the auto-driving feature- the one that Alphys put in for just such occasions- kicked in. “Are you kidding me? Papyrus, that was fucking AWESOME!” She turned back to the wheel but didn’t grab onto it, opting to let the system drive for her. “You need to be snarky like that more often!”

Of course Undyne would think that. The only thing she would have liked more would be if he had decided on a left hook to their jaw, but, of course, that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.

Frisk giggled off to the side, drawing his attention away from Undyne’s continued shouting and broad gestures. “...Thanks, Papyrus.”

He grinned and reached over, ruffling their hair like he’d seen Sans do before. “Anything to help my best platonic buddy!”

They grinned at him once he took his hand away, running their fingers through their hair to help calm the mess he had made of it. Despite what happened at the restaurant- and really, he kept thinking about how he could have and  _ should _ have done everything different- it was an enjoyable ride back to Undyne and Alphys’s home, a large section of the wall sliding open to let in their car. Their home was more impressive than most were, much of it easily taken care of by Alphys’s job, cleverly labeled bio-magical. Sans found it hilarious, and as much as Papyrus wanted to be angry at the semi-pun, he couldn’t help but to admire the cleverness of it. Not that he would tell Sans that, though.

He stepped out of the car once they parked, Undyne hurrying in to put on a new anime that they had found, pressing a smooch against Alphys’s head. Alphys blushed, stuttered out that she was going to get some treats and go to the bathroom, and then left, leaving himself and the human in the garage.

Frisk turned and looked at him, squinting through their bangs. “You’ve been acting weird.”

Papyrus huffed and tried to look offended, but internally he was berating himself for allowing his worry for Slim to show through on what was  _ supposed _ to be a completely normal and non-stressful day. “Unfortunately,” he started, making his way to the door, “I have been my cool self! You are sorely mistaken!”

Frisk wasn’t fooled, though. They ran in front of him, stopping and spreading their arms wide to keep him from moving past. Given his great strength, it wouldn’t be difficult to move them, but the look of DETERMINATION in their eyes let him know that the subject wouldn’t be dropped anytime soon.

He sighed. “I am simply worried about a friend!”

They stared at him for a moment, seeming to process his answer. It almost seemed like they would drop the subject. “Wait, is this the same friend that Undyne said you smooched?”

“She what?”

They grinned at him. Of course Undyne would have told Frisk. Undyne loved to gossip, and Frisk loved to hear it. Honestly, he shouldn’t even be surprised. “Did you confess your feelings?”

Papyrus frowned, narrowing his sockets. Frisk returned it with an innocent look. “Something like that.” He sighed as he stepped around them, making his way into the house. “And that is all that I’m saying on the matter!”

Footsteps followed after him. A glance over his shoulder let him know that Frisk was visibly pouting. “You aren’t telling the truth.” He kept walking only to stumble and nearly fall as Frisk took a running jump, latching onto his back. “C’mon, tell me!”

It was a struggle to pry them from his back, holding them out in front of him by their armpits. Frisk kicked their feet in the air, not trying to hit him, but making it more difficult to keep his hold. He set them down on the ground. “He hasn’t been talking to me. That’s all.”

“Oh.” They looked at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, ignoring the hurt. (Ignoring that there was a chance that Slim hadn’t been responding because he wasn’t able to, because something had happened.) Papyrus hadn’t noticed that he’d been lost in his thoughts until Frisk grabbed his hand, tugging him further into the house. He took in a deep breath, forcing a smile in the hopes it would turn genuine. “It’s okay. Let’s go see what baby’s show we’re going to watch today!”

From across the house they heard Undyne give a muffled, furious scream.

 

It was a few hours later when he took Frisk back to their house, driving home himself and getting lost in his thoughts. He did that too much, really, overthinking everything he could. Unfortunately, that wasn’t considered an actual skill.

The drive was quiet, blessedly so, the air filled with the crisp kind of cool that always appeared whenever it was about to rain. It was calming, driving down the road with his windows rolled down, and since it was calming all he could do was think. He thought of the day, thought of his friends. Thought of Slim.

Because what if Slim was in trouble? Razz wouldn’t ask for help, would he? Papyrus hated to think of Slim being in danger, but god if he didn’t know the other well enough to understand that trouble tended to find Slim more often than not. Whether he hated him or not, Papyrus still considered Slim his friend. 

He pulled into the garage, shutting off the engine and getting out of the car.

The house was silent. He walked into the kitchen, the soft pad of his shoes the only sound, looking around the room. There was a note on the fridge from Sans, a lazily scrawled notice that he was heading to the grocery store to get a few things. Papyrus sighed as he crumpled up the note, throwing it away.

Without meaning to, he let his gaze drift out of the window. It was starting to get dark outside, shadows over everything, but despite the dimness he could still see the vague shape of the shed in their yard. And then it hit him. 

He’d been ridiculous the past few days. Hadn’t he stood outside of Undyne’s house for hours to get her attention? Hadn’t he single-handedly created and repaired every one of the puzzles in Snowdin? He was more than capable of traveling to another universe to make sure that one of his best friends was okay. For the first time in weeks, he felt confident that he was doing the right thing.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats if you actually read this chapter. youve done more that i, as i have not even bothered to look back over it since i first wrote it about a month ago *shrug* anyways we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program tomorrow


	10. probably not the smartest decision you've ever made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there are flowers, stylishly dressed skeletons, and concussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nnlq7c9sVw0)

Papyrus took the day off.

Given that his ‘job’ consisted mostly of smiling for a camera and trying to be a positive person, there wasn’t much to take off from. And so he didn’t feel bad for calling Undyne and letting her know that he wasn’t feeling up to par (which wasn’t a lie, of course, since he’d hardly been the most energetic the past week or so). It was easy and over in minutes.

Waiting for Sans to leave, though. That took a bit longer. His brother knew something was up, watching him try to act perfectly casual, straightening up the house and doing his best to pretend he was just taking a completely normal day off. The hardest part about trying to act normally was questioning if everything he did seemed casual or if it seemed like he was trying far too hard. Did he normally pour a glass of milk like this? Was he standing correctly? He’d dealt with questions and interview by countless reporters before without breaking a sweat, but this was somehow so much harder.

“You alright, Paps?” Crap.

Papyrus turned to look over his shoulder with a grin, meeting Sans’s gaze from his place at the table. “Just tired!” He turned back to the counter, tearing open the packet of oatmeal and pouring it into the bowl, adding the milk before sticking it in the microwave. “I’ve taken the day off, though, so I should be fine by tomorrow!”

Aside from the hum of the microwave it was silent. Sans sighed, the scrape of the chair against the tile following soon after. “...Alright.” There was a pause. Papyrus tried to push down the feeling of guilt in his chest. “If you need anything just let me know, yeah?”

Regret sat heavy in his chest. “Of course!”

Sans nodded and smiled at him before making his way to the door. The sound of a teleport came and went, and then he was alone. He wanted to be able to tell Sans. He didn’t want to have to keep it from him. But, at the same time, Papyrus knew that Sans would insist on coming with him, and he wasn’t foolish enough to think that it wouldn’t be dangerous in Swapfell, even on the surface. The last thing he wanted was to put Sans in danger because he couldn’t leave well-enough alone.

The microwave timer went off and he took out his breakfast, eating it quickly before washing the bowl and spoon in the sink. He set them off to the side to dry, making his way through the quiet house and up to his room to change.

He needed something darker, something that wouldn’t be too conspicuous in the other universe. He rifled through his closet for a minute. Most of his clothes were too bright for what he needed, and the darker ones were either dress shirts or covered in pastels and other symbols. Not for the first time he wished he had more leather and spikes in his wardrobe. He searched through, trying to find  _ something, _ when he noticed the hoodie Sans had gotten him as a gift when they first came to the surface. He pulled it out, looking it over.

It was entirely black, the front emblazoned with a skull surrounded by flowers and thorns. He thumbed the cloth for a moment before he grinned, shutting the door and pulling it over the tank top he was wearing. He stopped in front of his mirror. Loose jeans with a few rips in them, heavy boots, the hoodie, and if he pulled the hood over his skull  _ just right _ then he almost looked like…

He shook his head, taking the hood off. It would work.

He checked his inventory, making sure he had money, before he left, shutting the backdoor behind him. The shed wasn’t far from the house, but every step felt like a mile as he walked to it, making his way inside and going up to the machine. He entered in one of the codes that was displayed on the paper on the wall, double-checking to make sure he had the right one before confirming the submission.

The air filled with the sound of pops and hisses as it warmed up, and then a tearing sound came, opening a portal in the center of the shed, a foot off the ground. Papyrus waited until the machine dinged that it was stable, taking in a deep breath before he stepped through into the other universe. It was dark and muffled for a fraction of a moment, like being underwater, and then everything came into view.

It was eerie how similar things were between the universes, close but just enough off that it left a sense of unease. Papyrus shook his head, walking away from the portal and waiting for it to waver and close before he left the shed, pulling the hood over his head.

It was a nice day out. The yard was well taken care of, thorny bushes lining the fence, thick enough that he couldn’t see past. Flowers were frothing over the bushes, petals fallen and lying on the ground just in front of the bushes. He walked over, running a finger along the edge of a flower. Undyne had a point, he supposed. He really should plant some bushes around their fence.

The house was in front of him, all the lights seemingly off. It was bright enough outside, though, the warmth of early morning sun across his bones. It would make sense for the lights to be off. He took a step closer, squinting as he took a closer look at the windows. There were metal bars, thin enough that they weren’t noticeable from far away, but he recognized the metal as the kind the guard used for armor, infused with magic to the point of being nearly unbreakable. 

Aside from the bars, it could have been anyone’s house, close enough to his own that if he stood long enough that he could almost pretend that he was in his own backyard.

Behind him he heard a shuffle, the soft crunch of a foot on grass. Before he could turn something slammed into the side of his head. Pain blossomed for a moment before it faded and he was falling towards the blanket of petals on the ground.

 

He woke up with a start, immediately groaning at the lights flooding his sockets. He had a migraine stemming from the right side of his skull, throbbing in pain. For a moment he sat in pained confusion before he remembered the yard, being in Swapfell, being knocked unconscious.

Papyrus opened his sockets once more, ignoring the pain as he sat up, looking at his surroundings. The house seemed empty and was entirely silent.He was inside the house on the couch, the room dimly lit by the sun slanting through the window, the dark streaks of shadow from the bars lining the floor like barcode. He blinked, looking outside, seeing the sun having started to set. How long had he been unconscious?

The feeling of being watched was present as he turned away from the window, finally seeing Razz standing in the doorframe, hands wrapped around a rag. Papyrus stood, swallowing and glancing from the other to the front door, but before he could do anything Razz turned and walked back into the kitchen.

He hesitated for a moment before following after, a hand on the doorframe as he peered inside. Razz had set the rag down by the sink, pulling his gloves back on. “You’re awake.”

“Yes…” Papyrus looked around the kitchen, seeing a bottle of ibuprofen sitting beside a glass of water on the table. There was a moment where he considered ignoring it before another throb of pain worked its way through his skull, making him wince and give in.

He popped two in his mouth, taking a drink of the water as Razz sighed, turning to look over his shoulder at him. “I apologize for that. I assumed you were my brother.”

Papyrus tensed but set the glass down, giving Razz an odd look. “Why would you attack your brother?”

There was a flare of animosity from the other before it faded away. Razz turned fully to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you knew what kind of trouble he got himself into, you would do the same to keep him from it.”

Papyrus didn’t bother to argue, but something the other said made him furrow his brow in confusion. “Where  _ is _ Slim?”

Razz looked down at the fingers of his gloves. For a moment, Papyrus thought he wouldn’t respond. “At Grillby’s, likely. I haven’t spoken to him since he came back from your ‘verse.”

At… “Grillby’s?” Papyrus almost wanted to laugh. Nothing was funny, of course, but it was just so stupidly shocking. Slim hated going to Grillby’s. Why would he be there voluntarily? “Why is he there of all places?!”

Razz’s fists clenched for a moment, minute enough that it was barely noticable. The other tugged on the edge of his gloves, pulling them up as far as they would go. “I told him to either sort his shit out or leave.” He looked up, and though Papyrus could tell that he was trying to glare, it was hardly threatening. “I know you can guess which one he chose.”

He swallowed, looking around the room, out to the front door. “You haven’t bothered to check on him?”

Razz sighed. “He makes his own decisions, regardless of whether they’ll get him killed or not.” Papyrus tensed, wanting to say something in return, but Razz continued before he could. “Go home, Papyrus. This doesn’t involve you.”

Now, that. That he had to argue against. “Slim is my friend,” he said, setting his shoulders back, “and if you don’t care enough about him to make sure that he’s alright, then I will!”

There was a flare of anger, harsh enough that it scared him, but he ignored his fear to stay strong, meeting the glare directed at him. The silence lasted an eternity.

And then Razz sighed, turning and making his way across the room. Papyrus watched him go in shock, staring as he went to the front door, standing just beside it and looking at him expectantly. He took a step towards the other, and then two, watching as he opened it and walked out. Papyrus walked faster, slowing down as he followed Razz out of the door. He heard the click behind him as it shut before he blinked and the area was different, the two walking out of an alleyway. The buildings around them looked cold, varying shades of grays and browns. Torn papers and trash littered the ground in the corner where the building met concrete. The atmosphere felt heavy.

The sidewalks were nearly empty, only a few other monsters walking down the street, heads tucked down and steps quick. From the shadows of the alleyways Papyrus felt stares on him, their intent hostile. Less on him and focused near him. If Razz noticed the malice of the glares he didn’t say anything.

The other spoke, drawing his attention away from the area. “Grillby’s is down the sidewalk to the right. You’ll know it when you see it.” Papyrus looked down in the direction that Razz had pointed him, giving him a small smile as thanks before starting down the path. “Papyrus?”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. Razz wasn’t looking at him exactly, but staring somewhere just over his shoulder. “Yes?”

A pause. “Don’t be caught out after ten.” His gaze flicked down to meet his own. “It’s shoot first and questions later.”

Before he could ask there was a crack and the other was gone, leaving him alone on the sidewalk. He started down the path once more, sending Undyne a quick message asking her to cover for him because there was a chance that he wouldn’t be home before Sans got off work. She sent him an affirmation, asking him why, but instead of answering he put his phone in his pocket, keeping his eyes on the street.

He slowed as he saw a flickering sign in the distance. As he got closer he saw that it was cracked in some places, the neon lights spelling “Grillby’s” flickering on and off in blue. A few moths fluttered around the lights. Papyrus shook his head as he walked in the bar, looking around the room as he let the door drift shut behind him.

There were a few booths lining the side, monsters slumped over the tables or focused on their drinks. The rest of the room was filled with tables, a few with less chairs than others because of a group of monsters off to the side playing a game of poker. The walls were covered in wallpaper, a few of the corners peeling up in some places, but aside from the weakening glue the place was surprisingly nice.

Only a few monsters looked up at him, staring for only a moment before they looked away with varying degrees of amusement, going back to their drinks. There was no sign of Slim anywhere. He walked up to the bar, placing a hand on the counter as he looked around. The bartender came up to him, a lizard monster polishing a glass in his hand. 

“What can I get you?”

“I’m looking for S- Papyrus?” A few of the monsters around him snorted in laughter, some of them glaring at him as he shifted in place.

“Sorry,” the monster said, “answers are only for customers.”

Papyrus sighed, placing a few bills on the counter and watching as he poured a glass of whiskey and set it in front of him. Papyrus pushed it over to the monster beside him, watching the other give him a drunken smile and laugh before drinking it down. He looked back to the bartender. “Do you know where Papyrus is?”

“Can’t say I do,” he responded, moving down the bar with a smirk. 

Papyrus huffed in annoyance, but a tug on his sleeve stopped him, making him look over. The monster who he’d given the drink to was smiling at him, fist tight around the cloth of his hoodie. “I can show ya where he is,” they slurred, sliding off the stool and making their way to the door.

“Oh! Um, thank you!” His voice was strained despite his best efforts. The entire situation made him uneasy, but unless he wanted to keep buying drinks just to get a shrug of the shoulders, it was the best lead he had.

He followed after, watching him stumble down the length of the building, stopping just before the corner of the alley to turn and give him a drunken smile before walking down it. Papyrus hesitated, debating whether or not to follow, before he sighed, moving and looking down the alley. It was empty.

He took a few steps further down, soul twisting in anxiety. Behind him he heard a shuffle, and- having already been knocked unconscious once that day- he moved quickly, sliding to the side to see the monster swinging a fist at where his head had just been. Papyrus formed a small bone in his hand, bringing it down on the back of their neck, watching them crumble to the ground. He picked them up, intending to take them back into the bar, when he heard voices from the other end of the alley.

He paused, thinking, before he crept further into the dark, seeing a chainlink fence about halfway through. Between the holes he could see two other monsters leaning against the wall, passing a cigarette between the two of them. They were talking too quiet for Papyrus to pick out every word, but he did hear “bet” and “fight.” And “Papyrus.” 

Papyrus stood there for a while, waiting for the two to finish their smoke, adjusting the body on his shoulders as they dropped the butt on the ground, stepping on it with their heel before walking into a door placed in the wall that he hadn’t noticed before. He waited until he was certain they were gone before adjusting his hold, scaling the fence and dropping to the ground on the other side, creeping to the door. It was covered in rust, and if Papyrus hadn’t seen them just walk in then he would have assumed that it was incapable of being opened. He looked closer, reaching out to touch the metal. It was flat, the rust only painted on. The door opened smoothly. 

There was a set of stairs that led down to a basement, lights inside only illuminating the first few steps. He crept down them slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. The monster on his shoulders groaned, making him tense at the noise, echoing in the small area. He waited, holding his breath, before moving back down when there was no response. There were no more voices in the area, and as he peered around the corner at the bottom he saw the room was mostly empty. A small table sat just to the side, three monsters slumped over on it, cards scattered randomly over the top and the floor. Empty bottles littered the ground around them.

Papyrus took the monster over his shoulders to the table, setting them in the empty chair and adjusting them so it looked like they had simply blacked out, sighing in relief before going to make his way further into the basement under Grillby’s.

Before he could someone grabbed him around the waist, smacking a hand over his mouth and dragging him into a small closet, slamming the door behind them. He fought, bringing his elbow around to slam into the chest of his attacker, breaking away and turning, prepared to defend himself. He stopped, though, as curses filled the air, the voice familiar. There was a click and the small room flooded with light from an old bulb hanging from a wire from the ceiling.

Papyrus sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“...Slim?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... now that youre both in the closet, are you gonna make out?


	11. so, two skeletons walk into a bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which slim and papyrus finally have a good, completely healthy, perfectly normal conversation!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor warnings in end notes

For a moment Papyrus just stared at him. It didn’t seem real, not really, and he tried to explain it away as the lighting, the angle, the minor head trauma he’d received from Razz earlier in the day, but as he stood there longer in the flickering light of the bulb he knew that he wasn’t imagining it.

“Hey.” The word was enough to break him out of his shock. Papyrus started to reach out, wanting to touch the side of the other’s face, but stopped himself, keeping his hand at his side.

“You look terrible,” he said. And god, did he. Slim was, well,  _ slim _ before but he was somehow so much smaller, like a particularly harsh wind would knock him over. There were bags under his sockets, stains of magic from sleepless nights and Angel-knows what else. Bandages were wrapped around his hands, the bones he could see on his right charred and black, like carved charcoal. Papyrus felt sick.

“Good to see you too, Paps.” Slim laughed but it was hollow, didn’t reach the dim lights in his sockets. Papyrus had a feeling that the other didn’t really think it was good to see him.

Despite the appearance of Slim, coming from both the injuries and the lack of care that he had for himself, Papyrus was relieved to see him. In some sense, some sick and twisted manner, Papyrus was glad he looked like that because at least he was  _ alive. _ Barely so, but still. “Have you been eating?”

Slim glanced away, drumming his hands on his femurs. “Um. Yeah?”

So he hadn’t been, then. It wasn’t a surprise, but having it confirmed was worse, somehow. “What are you doing here, Slim?” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible, but it still came out accusing. Hurt. 

Slim tensed and looked away. He hadn’t been looking at him in the first place, not really, more staring at the wall just behind him or at his shoulder, but now he stared at the floor. “You shouldn’t be here.”

For the moment, Papyrus decided to ignore the lack of answer. He knew why Slim was here anyways. Razz had told him enough. “Neither should you. Slim, I don’t even know how you’re still standing. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

There was nothing but silence, the only sound the crackling hum of the old bulb in the ceiling. A moth fluttered around the light, throwing shadows around the small room.

“I sold it” he finally murmured, breaking the stiff silence. “I needed the money.”

That explained the lack of response, he supposed. Despite the fact, he couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the story. Here Slim was, broken and battered but alive, not fine maybe, but living, and all he wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake him, yank him back by the collar before he could go through Hell’s gate. But, of course, he did none of those things, standing and watching, pretending the twist in his soul was worry and not the bitter betrayal he knew it was.

He looked back down at his hands, black like he didn’t know bone could be. Slim caught his stare this time, quickly moving to tuck his hands into his pockets, hunched over and defensive. “C’mon,” he muttered, clicking the light off before he turned to the door, opening it so that the dim light flooded the small area.

He walked out and Papyrus followed after, keeping his gaze on the ground. Slim was basically tearing himself apart and there was nothing Papyrus could do but let it happen. The only reason he had come was to make sure that Slim was okay, and though he wasn’t  _ really _ okay he was alive, he was making his own choices, and…

And Papyrus had to let it happen.

He winced at the thought, hating it the moment it came and wanting nothing more than to reject it entirely, but Slim was an adult and could make his own decisions. Papyrus cared about him, as a friend, as  _ more _ than that, but if Slim didn’t feel the same… Then he had to accept that.

Papyrus was drawn out of his thoughts by a curse from the other, a panicked sort of anger. He watched Slim move over to a monster he hadn’t seen who was slumped on the floor, a small flame elemental. He started as Slim kicked at his leg, jumping and blinking around blearily. “Hey.” He reached out, smacked his face with his palm a few times. “Wake up.”

He blinked up at Slim, gaze drifting around the room. It passed over Papyrus but didn’t seem to register him, unfocused at it was. There was a moment’s pause before the monster grinned, looking at Slim. “Hey, bud. Th’ name’s Hots Flamesm-”

Slim smacked him again, stopping the speech. Papyrus hissed his name in chiding but Slim paid no mind, not seeming to regret it. “Yeah, fucking whatever. What time is it?”

The monster grinned at him, shrugging his shoulders before starting to stand, using the wall for support. “It’s reckonin’ hours, bud.” 

With that he laughed and stumbled to the side, bending and picking up an overturned bottle on the ground. He lifted it to his mouth, face twisting into disappointment when it came back empty. The bottle shattered across the ground as he dropped it, glass skittering across the floor. He moved to the next bottle, mind focused on the one task now that he was conscious. 

Slim kicked the shards away with a curse, pacing back and forth in a small area. He seemed agitated, muttering under his breath. His boots crunched as they moved over the glass, the shards sticking to the bottom of his shoe long enough for him to lift his foot for the next step before they fell back to the ground with a gentle tink. Remembering a few moments earlier he pulled out his phone, looking at the time.

“It’s past ten,” he said aloud. Slim stopped his pacing, turning and looking at him with confusion and a hollow sort of sorrow.

“You know?”

He nodded. “Some. Your brother told me.”

At that Slim tensed, sockets widening in panic as he looked around the room. The drunks stayed slumped over the table, but Heats Hotman turned, the bright white of his eyes narrowing on the two. “Wait” he muttered with drunken anger. “He knows Sans?”

Slim pulled a bottle from his inventory, ripping the cap off with a grunt before handing it to the other. “You’re drunk” he said, handing it to him. Any anger in his expression disappeared as he grabbed the bottle with a slurred laugh, sliding down the wall and tipping it back into his mouth.

Papyrus startled when Slim grabbed his arm, pulling him towards him. “Don’t mention Razz here,” he whispered before letting go. Papyrus nodded, murmuring an apology, but if Slim heard him he didn’t acknowledge it, making his way to the other side of the room and waving for him to follow.

Having nowhere else to go, he did.

The hallway they walked down was dim, entirely made of concrete. Water stains dripped from the ceiling, some stretching out to reach the floor, staining the wall a rust brown. They passed a few doors, the largest of which was open, leading into another hallway. Down it, Papyrus could hear countless voices and music, shouts and whistles echoing down the concrete corridor. He’d slowed enough for Slim to notice, moving back and shutting the door, muffling all the sounds.

“Just ignore that shit,” he said, walking a bit further and turning a corner. Papyrus hesitated before continuing to follow, stopping just beside Slim as he fumbled with a ring of scratched up keys in front of a door.

The key scratched against the hole a few times. Papyrus pretended not to notice the shakiness of the other’s hands. Slim finally got the key in, turning it and grunting as he threw his shoulder against the door, slamming it open. He stumbled in, catching himself on the door handle before straightening, throwing a grin over his shoulder at Papyrus. It was the same kind of grin he always gave him, despite the fact that it was hardly a usual situation or, from what he had gathered, a safe situation.

He walked into the room.

It was small, shockingly so, barely larger than his closet at him. To the left, pushed against the far wall, was what looked to be a bed, a ratty mattress held up by a rotted bed frame. The wood of it was splintered, chips of it missing in some places with what looked to be mold and other such things from water damage. On top of the bed sat a blanket that was more holes than cloth, some looking like tears from use while others looked like cigarette burns. The door shut behind him, closing them both in the small space.

“Home sweet home,” Slim said. There was some theatrics in it, the hint of foolish joy that came with every exaggerated movement he usually had. He spread his arms wide, displaying the pitiful room. “As the French say: ‘Mi casa es su casa.’”

“Something about that seems off” he muttered. Slim laughed, brushing it off, walking towards him to shut the heavy door.

He sighed, moving away from the door to the wall on the right, pressing his back against it before sliding down so he was sitting on the floor. Papyrus hesitated before moving beside him. They sat in frigid silence for a moment.

“It’s better than it looks,” Slim said, looking at him with a familiar, lopsided grin.

Papyrus looked away, letting his gaze wander around the room. There wasn’t much to look at. The ceiling was low enough that he could reach it if he stood, a bare bulb screwed into a socket in the center. He let his gaze drift down, catching on something he could see under the bed. It was a bag, tipped over, filled with something unknown. He looked closer. Out of the top he could see a spoon poking out.

“It wouldn’t take much,” he finally responded. Slim huffed out a laugh, pulling his knees up to rest his elbows on. Papyrus found himself looking over the ratty jacket, wondering just how small he would be without it. “If it’s between quitting and  _ this-” _ he gestured at the room, at the furniture that looked like it was falling apart and the crack in the ceiling in the corner, a beetle lazily making its way down- “then why wouldn’t you stop?”

Slim tensed. The room was fairly small, entirely concrete and brick, the only exit being the door they had entered from. If Slim tried to run out, then- as awful as it was- Papyrus would be able to get there first. The other must have realized the same thing because he sighed, head tipping forward to rest on the platform his arms made. 

“It’s not that easy.” His voice was quiet. Not in anger, but not in sadness either. If anything it sounded… tired.

Despite his efforts, his voice broke with his next words. “Slim, it hurts to see you like this! I care about you, and-”

“Then stop caring.”

He went silent at that from both shock and uncertainty. What was he supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to respond?

Slim sighed. “Look, you can’t go back right now. It’s too dangerous.” He stood with a grunt, stoutly refusing to look at Papyrus. “You can stay here until the morning. Everything looks shitty, but I try to keep it pretty clean.”

Papyrus stood, swallowing. “How am I supposed to keep in contact with you?” He laughed. It sounded desperate and crazy, even to himself. “Given everything- and Angel knows how much I don’t know- how am I supposed to know that you’re safe?”

“You won’t. You can’t.”

He opened his mouth, starting to argue, but Slim just scoffed, lifting his hand to silence him. “Look! I get it! You’re great, you’re caring, you think that I  _ just might _ be worth it, but I guarantee you I’m not!”

Slim stared him down, as if daring him to argue. And, of course, he did. “Everyone deserves kindness.” It was quiet but firm.

Another scoff, fading into a laugh as Slim ran his hand down his face. Burnt and blistered against an off-white background. “No! God, I never should have made you think I was worth it, that I could actually change.” He looked up, any trace of humor gone. “Papyrus, you’re amazing, I’ve never met anyone like you, and you have this… this  _ hope _ for me that might be friendship or might be some juvenalian crush, but I assure you that no matter what it’s bullshit! Stop caring about me, stop thinking about me, stop believing that  _ somehow, someway, _ I’m worth the effort that you’re willing to put into me. I’m better off here where at least the only thing I’m really ruining is my own life.”

Slim stopped after that, like he was waiting for Papyrus to say something in response. Despite how much he wanted to, he couldn’t think of a single thing that would change his mind, couldn’t imagine a single speech he could give that would somehow show Slim just what he thought of him and why. The other turned to the door, yanking it open on rusty hinges. 

He hesitated before he said, “If you care about me at all, please, just. Don’t leave the room.”

The door shut behind him, leaving Papyrus alone in his silence. Not knowing what else to do he moved to the bed, sitting on it to the sound of creaky springs and ruffling blankets. After a few moments he sighed, dropping his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He had no idea what to do. 

He opened his sockets, gaze catching on the pillowcase under the bed, and before he knew what he was doing he grabbed onto the end of it, pulling it out and listening to the contents hit against one another. He tipped it out onto the mattress. A spoon. A lighter. A syringe, the tip slightly bent from use. A small bag of white powder. He stared at the items for a bit, unblinking, before looking back down at the floor. Beside the bed was a half-empty bottle of water.

As suddenly as he had dumped them out, he swept the items back into the bag, tying a knot at the top before pushing it back underneath of the bed. He stood and looked at the door with a sudden burst of determination. He had always been stubborn.

There wasn’t any way he was stopping now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: drug mention, hinted drug use, hard drugs


	12. two shitty decisions cancel each other out, right? it's math.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's make ourselves a friendly little wager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im gonna be dead honest with you guys: this chapter gave me so much fucking trouble and i was struggling to get it out. im not proud of it at all, but ive said that in the past and most of you have seemed to enjoy them regardless, so here it is

If he’d thought Slim was exaggerating when opening the door, that quickly changed as he struggled with the handle, finally managing to yank it open. Unfortunately, he’d put too much strength behind it, one of the hinges screwed into the doorframe ripping out of the wood. The screws that were in it- rusted through- clinked as they landed on the floor. He tensed, waiting for a moment before he innocently used his foot to kick the screws under the bed across the room, working the now broken door back into the frame before facing the hallway with a sigh. Brushing invisible dirt from his shirt, he glanced around, glad no one saw that.

The hallway was empty as it had been when he first went through it. The dim lights gave it an ominous atmosphere as he walked through it alone, and he found himself missing having Slim walk beside him, even if it was tense and riddled with hidden anger. Though… He slowed, eventually coming to a stop. How was he supposed to find Slim if he didn’t want to be found?

He’d found him once, yes, but Razz had been the one to help him- even if that help was negated by knocking him unconscious. Now that he was truly on his own, he had no idea what to do, no idea where to look. He pulled out his phone, checking the time.

It was closing in on midnight, already far past the time Razz had warned him about, the time that agitated Slim. “Reckoning hour,” they called it. Apparently, Asgore wasn’t the only one who was poor at naming things. He tucked the phone back in his pocket, continuing down the hallway. 

He stopped when he came to the door that Slim had shut earlier. It was now open, and the same sounds of music and voices echoed down the hall. He squinted from his spot outside the door, trying to see further in, but the sound was coming from around the corner, leaving him blind. There was a moment when he almost kept walking, not sure what his plan was going to be aside from climbing back up the stairs and wandering the alley, when he stopped. The door was open, now, and unless someone else had walked in or out, then he could really only think of one reason why. There was a chance Slim had gone in there.

Without hesitating to overthink his choice, he moved down the hallway, the music and voices becoming louder. He turned the corner, pushing open another door, and he was greeted with a large room. It was loud, the music that he had heard raised to the point of blaring. Fleetingly, he was grateful for his lack of eardrums to damage.

The area was larger than he would have thought from the building above. He looked closer at the walls and ceiling, seeing the very obvious work of magic that was used to carve rock. He’d seen plenty of it when he was underground. Curiosity sated, he looked around the rest of the room, moving away from the door and off to the side, against one of the walls. To the side was a bar, with what he assumed was this universe’s Grillby working behind it. The usual assortment of drinks and such was stacked behind him as he worked at the counter, but above that was a sort of board, messy writing scrawled on it. He squinted, moving closer.

At first he thought it was some kind of menu- and, yes, part of it was, listing drinks and prices (all of which seemed absurdly high)- but half of it was a list of names, times written out beside them. He checked his phone before glancing up at the board. The times that had already passed had one of the two names written beside it crossed out, the other circled. His eyes skimmed the list of names- at least ten, only three of which were crossed out- before they stopped on one particular name. Papyrus. It very obviously wasn’t for him.

Tucking his phone back in his pocket, he moved over to the bar, hesitating for just a moment before resting his elbows on the polished, singed wood like the other monsters leaning against it. A few gave him sidelong looks, but he simply met their gazes with a smile until they looked away with either disgust or a laugh. The sudden onslaught of heat made him turn away from the monster to his side to face the front, eyes meeting the bright white slit’s of Grillby’s. 

***Haven’t seen you around here before.**

He blinked before shaking his head. The way that the Grillby’s in every universe spoke always seemed odd to him.

“Just visiting,” he said in return, giving him a smile.

For a moment he seemed shocked, the flames on his head flaring for a moment before they died back down. The area where his mouth would have been split, a slit of bright white, strings of what looked like magma connecting both sides. 

***Oh, really?** He leaned on the counter, head tilted to the side. From the corner of his sockets, Papyrus saw a few of the monsters at the bar- and even some closer to the area that weren’t focused on the cards scattered on tables- look at him with amused interest.  ***Visiting who?**

“Papyrus!” He blurted before he could stop himself. A few of the monsters snickered at that, but it seemed to be enough for Grillby who leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. The apron he was wearing was stained with what Papyrus sincerely hoped was just alcohol, even if it was slightly unsanitary.

***Interesting. I wasn’t aware anyone visited him for reasons other than money.**

He shrugged, but the interest of the topic had passed, the monsters around him slowly going back to their drinks or the tables. He continued to stand by the bar, looking around the rest of the room. At the back, there was a large, empty space surrounded by a fence made of metal, a few monsters leaning on it or the wall nearby. He turned back to the bar, raising a few fingers to catch Grillby’s attention. 

When he was sure the other was looking at him he pointed to the board with the list of names. “What is that for?”

Grillby stared at him for a long while. Despite the fact that he was made of fire, the gaze was cold. Briefly, he thought of how easily Sans would make a joke for such and his socket twitched in annoyance at his own mind. After a moment Grillby folded his arms over his chest, the fires of his face splitting once more in a mockery of a grin. 

***The roster for tonight.** He tilted his head to the side slightly.  ***Here to make a wager?**

“Roster?”

There was silence for a moment before he laughed. Less of a laugh, really, more like a crackle of flames, the sound of a building crumbling as it’s ravaged by fire. Grillby leaned closer. He fought the urge to move back, keeping the smile that he  _ knew _ was strained now on his face.

***You don’t know much, do you?** A pause. Papyrus kept smiling.  ***The fights for tonight.**

It took a moment for the words to register, but the moment that they did he felt his soul drop to the ground. Flashes of Slim, of bones thin enough to easily break and drugs and shaky hands. There was no way that he would be able to win a fight, not like he was at the moment. Even if he won, the thought of what would happen to him-  _ broken bones, marrow, spent magic, dust- _ made him sick. He fought all the thoughts down, swallowing, keeping his grin. Always keeping the grin.

“Why are they fighting?”

Another laugh. He fought down a shudder, ignored the snort of a bird monster to his right.  ***Papyrus has a horrible habit of owing people more than he can give. He’s useless, that way.** Papyrus fought back the urge to argue.  ***They’re either fighting because he owes them money, or because his brother has done something to anger them.** He propped his chin on the counter.  ***Or both.**

“I see. Where’s the monster that Papyrus is going to fight tonight, then?”

Grillby stared at him. He seemed smug and mildly amused.  ***You really should watch yourself. Not everyone here is as kind as me.** There was a pause, a moment where Papyrus fought down the urge to point out the feeling, the cold of LV that was there. Never let it be said that he wasn’t capable of holding his metaphorical tongue. After getting no response, Grillby continued.

***In the corner back there,** he said, gesturing to a table that was difficult to see. It was in the shadow of the room, the light not quite reaching all the way back.  ***Be careful now, sweetheart.**

He smiled, fighting to stay pleasant, to stay polite, before he made his way to the back, hands shoved deep in the pocket of his hoodie. He could feel his fingers shaking, slightly, and so he crammed them deeper, doing his best to hide it. There was a small moment where he felt guilty, almost afraid, but he hid it quickly. This was for Slim. If he could find some way to convince the other monster to call off the fight…

Before he could really work out his thoughts, or even a plan, he was at the table. Whatever conversation that had been going beforehand stopped as the three monsters that were sitting around it looked at him. There was a threat in their gazes, a threat and something darker, but he ignored it, instead turning to look at the lizard monster in the center. There was a patch of scales missing from the side of his face, the tissue below it scarred in a way, showing that they were ripped out.

“Are you Lizar?”

His snout wrinkled as he looked him up and down. “The fuck are you.”

…

So far so good. “You can call me Rus!” He stuck out his hand, smiling- it was fake, obviously so, and internally he was berating himself for it. When Lizar made no move to shake it back, he tucked his hand back into his pocket. It was hardly the first time someone was less than cordial with him.

“I understand that you’re going to be fighting Papyrus later tonight?”

The other snorted. For a moment Papyrus was afraid that he would continue to ignore him, but his face twisted into a sneer as he leaned further back in his seat. The leather creaked with his movement, his arms crossing over his chest. “Why? You wanna place a bet?”

“Not exactly.” He smiled, pleasant and soft. “I was actually hoping to convince you to call off the fight!”

The look of shock on the three’s faces was almost comical but it quickly changed as Lizar leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “You’re new here, so I’ll say this slow.” His mouth twisted up again, more of a snarl than anything. “Papyrus owes me more money than you’ll ever make whoring yourself out.” The monsters on either side of him snickered. Papyrus kept smiling. “The law says I can’t kill him, and angel knows I won’t ever get paid back for it. The only comfort I get is beating the shit out of him.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Papyrus pulled almost all of his money from his inventory, setting the stack of bills on the table and sliding it across to the other. His eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion, and then widened again as he picked up the stack, thumbing across the paper. He looked up at Papyrus, but if he saw anything in his smile he didn’t show it. Lizar chuckled. 

“This isn’t near enough to pay off what he owes me.”

“No,” he said, tucking his hands back in his pocket. He hooked his phalanges together inside of the hoodie, squeezing his own hand for comfort. “But it should be enough to pay you off for one fight, yes?”

Lizar stared at him for a long moment. As a skeleton, Papyrus didn’t need to blink, but he still had to focus to hold the gaze, breathing stopping for a moment as he waited for the answer. The bills disappeared without a trace, Lizar leaning back once more after tucking the bills into his inventory. Papyrus sighed in relief.

“I’ll take your money, but it ain’t exactly up to me.” He grinned. The flesh he could see in the patch without scales shifted and wrinkled. It was painful looking, like the expression was one that wasn’t practiced often. “The fights are organized by Grillby.” He nodded his head to the bar that Papyrus had just come from, shrugging. “You’ll have to take it up with him.”

He fought back a grumble, turning and looking back at the bar. He could feel the stare of countless eyes on him, the longer he stayed the more he stuck out. Even with a change of clothing he felt out of place, feeling too bright, too conspicuous. Without another word he moved back to the bar, coming back to the same spot he’d been in earlier.

Grillby noticed him, grinning, moving to stand across from him. 

***Welcome back, sweetheart. Find what you were looking for?**

He set all pleasantries aside. He was past the point of being polite. “Papyrus doesn’t need to fight tonight.”

Grillby’s flames flared up but quickly settled into a simmering heat.  ***Oh, really? And why is that?**

“Lizar’s been paid off.” He paused, watched as the twin pinpricks of blinding white flickered over his shoulder to where he knew the booth was. Whatever Grillby saw there made the gaze shift back to him. “At least for tonight,” he finished.

Despite the noise of the room, it was quiet for a long moment, the snap of flames seeming to close in on him. And then he leaned back, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees. He picked up a glass and held it in his hands, turning it over. 

***Unfortunately, the fight can’t be called off.**

A grin. Papyrus stared at him for a moment before he moved his gaze up to the board. His own name-  _ Slim’s _ name- stood out like a scream in a silent room. “Why not?”

He looked back down at Grillby, his hands still working over the glass in the edges of his vision. The glass, once clear, was starting to heat up, turning a stunning orange and yellow.  ***There’s scheduled to be a fight. Bets have already been placed, and everyone’s waiting for a fight.** He shrugged, grinning, arms coming apart as if to showcase his helplessness in the situation. The molten glass in his hand started to flow out of his palm, slowly dripping down, before he brought his hands together once more, working it back into a small ball. 

***Besides.** He looked up at him, intense enough that Papyrus had to glance away, if only for a moment.  ***You don’t exactly have much say here.**

Papyrus swallowed. If Sans were here… God, if  _ any one _ of his friends were here, knew what he was about to do, he was certain he would never hear the end of it. Thinking of Undyne’s volume and Slim’s tendency to shout when upset about something, he likely would never be able to hear again.

“Would it have to be Lizar? In the fight, I mean.”

Grillby looked at him, hands still kneading the molten glass. Slowly, his face split into a smile. His hand pinched an end of the glass in his hand, quickly stretching it out and somehow cooling it to where it was a sharp point, dangerously thin and hot.  ***I’m not sure you understand exactly what you’re getting into here, sweetheart.**

“I do,” he said, tilting his chin up slightly.

Grillby hummed, the glass in his hands starting to melt once more as he started to knead it.  ***Most of the monsters down here would love nothing more than to see a pretty thing like you torn limb from limb.** He looked up, like he was hoping to gain some kind of reaction from that, but aside from a slight flinch Papyrus forced himself to stay still. Grillby grinned, looking over his shoulder and nodding, snapping his fingers and pointing to Papyrus.  ***Have fun, sugar.**

A soft hand rested on his shoulder, making him jump. Papyrus turned, looking to see a rabbit monster standing behind him, her eyes blank and ears laid flat. She seemed stressed and tired, nose twitching slightly as she motioned Papyrus to follow her, going back to a door he hadn’t noticed before and pushing it open. He followed, walking into small room. A few monsters were milling about inside, though his attention was immediately drawn to the sight of one laying on a stained, wooden table, clothes cut off in tatters and bandages wrapped around one of their arms, a patch of gauze taped to their side.

One of their eyes cracked open as he walked in, startling him slightly- he’d thought they were unconscious- but he quickly recovered, following the bunny as she walked over to a table to the side. She sighed as she picked up a roll of what looked like bandages, looking at Papyrus out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Name?”

He hesitated. “...Rus.”

She grunted. “Take your hoodie off, hon.” He hesitated for a moment before he did as she’d asked, grabbing the hood and tugging it over his head, pausing for a moment with it in his hands before adding it to his inventory. She stuck out a paw and after a few moments Papyrus slowly placed his hand in her own, watching as she unwrapped the cloth and started wrapping it around his hand, taking time to loop it around every phalange tightly, but not uncomfortably.

“You’re new here, ain’t ya?” He nodded and she gave another small grunt in response, continuing to wrap his hand. “Rules are simple. Keep your teeth and claws to yourself and your hits above the waist if possible. In the fight, if you form any attacks, you’re automatically disqualified.” She looked up at him. For the first time, he saw the faint light of emotion in her dim eyes. “Trust me. You don’t want to be disqualified.”

He nodded, slow, watching as she wrapped his other hand before stepping away with a sigh, brushing her hands against one another. “Thank you,” he said. It seemed to startle her.

Once again, a flicker of emotion passed her eyes, seeming almost sad. “Good luck, hon.” He nodded, and with that she walked away, leaving Papyrus alone in what he assumed was the waiting room.

Despite how out of place he felt, he didn’t seem to garner any reaction from the others in the room aside from a few glances. They were all scarred heavily, more so than many of the monsters that he’d seen in the underground bar, patches of fur or scales missing, magic sickly colors. None of them were skeletons, of course, but despite that fact he couldn’t help but notice how similar they looked to Slim. Smaller than what was healthy, looking hollow and sunken in. The longer he stared the more he noticed.

The shaky hands, some with glazed over eyes, some looking around with dead eyes and some with concealed nerves. He looked down at his hands, wrapped tight for support. At his arms, where there were a few marks here and there from training but nothing like the barely healed wounds that seemed to cover every other monster in the room. He felt a mix of pity, of sorrow, wanting nothing more than to help, but…

He felt like he was stretching thin already, wearing himself down to the bone with worry. Internally, he reminded himself to tell Sans that one later on. He always got an unbelievable amount of joy, face twisting up in real laughter, when he found out that he’d unintentionally made a pun in his day to day life. Though this was hardly a normal situation, he was sure the sentiment would be the same.

The door to the back room opened, and he had exactly two seconds to look up in curiosity before Slim was on him, slamming him up against the wall with a growl. The monsters around the room perked up, varying degrees of excitement radiating from their forms. He grabbed Slim’s arm, pushed him back enough that his forearm wasn’t pressed so hard against his cervical spine, letting him breathe easier.

In his eyes was hurt, was fear, was anger like he’d only seen a few times before from the other. Before either of them could say anything the rabbit from earlier hurried in, putting a hand on the center of Slim’s sternum and shoving him away hard enough to make him stumble back a few steps. He glared at her, but stayed away. “Save it for the fight, boys.”

She looked between the two of them for a few moments, back and forth, trying to get a read on the situation before she turned with a sigh, smoothing down the front of her shirt and leaving the room. Slowly, the interested looks faded away until it was just Slim and himself looking at each other.

“What the  _ hell _ do you think you’re doing,” he snarled, hands clenching and unclenching. Like his own, they were wrapped in tape.

“I’m getting you to listen.”

Slim swiped a hand down his face. The movement was violent, almost desperate. “Fine. I’m listening.” He looked up then, meeting his sockets. “What do you want.”

“I want to make a deal.” Slim stared at him, waiting. Papyrus took in a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and looking around the room at the other monsters, thinking back on broken bones and blood and the old, bent syringe in Slim’s “room.”

Letting out the breath, he continued. “If I win this fight, then you have to come back with me, or stay with your brother, but stop all of  _ this-” _ he gestured at the area around them, “this stuff that is almost getting you killed.”

Slim looked at the ground, not meeting his gaze. “And if you lose?”

He swallowed, countless emotions bubbling up in his soul. He didn’t bother to name them, shoving them down and sticking out his right hand. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”

It was stupid, but as he watched Slim reach out, take his wrapped hand in his own, charcoal black with images of a certain fire elemental flickering in his mind, he knew that he didn’t have much of a choice. Slim gave his hand a firm shake, staring at him and holding on for a few moments, his teeth parted slightly. Papyrus watched as his eyelights flicked down, pointed somewhere at his mouth, his collarbone, before he finally looked up and to the side, releasing his hand and letting it linger for a moment before walking away, leaving the room. Despite the other monsters around him, Papyrus felt alone.

Not for the first time that night, he wondered just what the hell he was getting into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will our hero be able to get out of this one? find out next time on DRAGON BALL Z KAI!


	13. you aren't really dating until you've beaten the shit out of each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there is a Physical Altercation!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS IN END NOTES!!!!**
> 
> so this marks the end of the chapters ive had pre-written and plotted out, so from here on out im flying by the seat of my pants! (luckily for me, i have a general idea and also it is almost the End)

The room he was waiting in was a lot different from the one just on the other side of the door. It was a lot quieter, less rowdy, less excited. More than anything, the monsters milling about- sitting on the floor, laying on the ground, leaning against the walls- seemed calm. Almost tired. Alone now, not stuck half-watching his back, not distracted by the noise and the stares of the room around him, not talking to someone, in some way, he became aware of just how different the atmosphere was.

The memory of the bar itself, though not entirely gone, seemed almost distant, as muted as the music and conversations on the other side of the wall. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there. The bunny had come back in- he’d asked for her name, but she only gave him a momentary look of shock before saying that he didn’t need to know it- checking him over for weapons. He let her, and then once again she left him alone. 

There were a few chairs in the corner of the room. They were all cracked or broken in some way, missing a leg or a back, the same kind of chairs that sat around the few interspersed tables in the other room. He grabbed one, dragging it a bit away from the pile, by the wall, before sitting down. After so long standing, especially after the day he’d had, even his usually limitless energy was running low. Papyrus leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers interlocked and gaze directed towards the floor, but not really focusing on it. 

What was he doing?  _ He was helping Slim. _ The other obviously didn’t want his help. Why was he even bothering?  _ Because he couldn’t just stand to the side and let Slim nearly kill himself in his effort to… _

To what? He had no idea what Slim’s reasoning for any of this was. It went further than just “Slim being Slim,” because there was a difference between using pudding instead of milk for his cereal or sitting in the rain for hours on end as opposed to what he was doing right now. It wasn’t just a recent development, either. He’d seen Slim with injuries and old bandages like the other monsters in the room  _ countless _ times before Razz had kicked him out. There was something he was getting from this aside from food, a place to sleep, or money.

He shifted, wringing his hands a few times before that proved too difficult with the wrapping around them. He opted to just pick at the edge of the cloth, where one length of it crossed another over the back of his hand. It was rough, almost stiff, beneath his bare phalanges. The more he tugged at the wrap, the more the rough cloth scratched against his bones. It was irritating, but he kept pulling despite the fact. 

The door opened, letting in the sound of the bar outside, conversations mingling until words were unable to be picked out, music filling in any spaces that would have been left from the sound. He looked up, across the room. Slim had walked in, not bothering to look in his direction as he moved against the wall furthest away from him. The monster that had been holding the door for him looked around the room and, apparently satisfied with what they’d seen, backed away, letting it slam shut.

Papyrus stared in his direction, wanting Slim to look up even if he had no idea what he would do, wanting the other to acknowledge him or give him some kind of cocky grin or tilt of the head that let him know that he wasn’t hated, wasn’t doing the wrong thing. Even knowing that it was the only way he could help the other, the only way to get him out of his situation, Papyrus knew that it was in no way right. He was an idiot, and he’d gotten Slim caught up in his stupidity. Maybe Slim did hate him. He thought back on time spent with the other, on japes and jokes, on a kiss and friendship that was far more complex than any puzzle he’d ever tried to solve.

Maybe Slim didn’t hate him. 

There was no use in thinking about it either way.

Slim shifted, drawing him out of his thoughts, but it was to pull a package of cigarettes out of his pocket. He put it between his teeth, frowned as he checked his inventory and patted at his pockets, before he sighed, bringing his hand up to the end of the roll. With a flick of his thumb, a small bit of fire magic ignited at his fingertip. Slim could… use fire magic? He watched as the other brought it to the end, holding it for a moment, before he dispelled the magic.

Smoke curled around his head and out of his mouth as he glanced up at Papyrus before quickly looking away, tucking his head down once more. His shock slowly faded away. Papyrus watched him a bit longer before he looked away, glancing up at the clock. It was almost time for the match with Slim to start.

Letting his head hang off his shoulders, he sighed, bringing his palms up to press into his eyes. The cloth irritated the edges of his sockets. He only pressed them harder. It was quiet. More time went on. The smell of smoke became stronger as the sound of fire magic ficked on, and then off. On, and off. Cigarettes and smoke. A growl broke the relative quiet of the room, louder than the muffled sounds through the wall.

“Papyrus, if you don’ stop smokin’ those things I swear to the angel I’ll beat the shit outta you.”

A chuckle. There was the scraping sound again, the crush of the butt against the floor. “Heh. Sorry, man,” Slim said. Papyrus didn’t bother to look up at him.

More silence.

The door swung open and someone whistled, gaining the attention of every conscious monster in the room. “Papyrus. Rus. You’re up.”

Slim stood first, a few of the monsters near him mumbling something or giving him a harsh pat on the back. Papyrus followed after, coming up beside the other. The monster at the door looked the two of them over before they stepped inside the room, taking the handle of the door and holding it open for them. It was only then that Slim glanced at him, brief, just a flick of the eyelights and then back forward. He walked out and, after a second, Papyrus followed. 

The bar was entirely focused on them, cheers and whistles and leering as they walked out. His steps were slower than the other’s as he looked around the room. Nothing much had changed, not really, but as he followed Slim the crowd became thicker, monsters lining some unspoken path leading to a large grouping on the side of the room. His gaze flicked over to Grillby. The cold smile he got in return made him look away, focusing on keeping his face calm even at the gestures, the words yelled around him.

The very thought of Slim dealing with this regularly…

It made him sick.

They stopped just before the larger crowd and Papyrus watched as they parted easily, revealing the battered-looking fencing from earlier. Slim grabbed onto the top rung of it, swung himself over. Papyrus hesitated before he followed suit, stepping through and sliding between the space between the rusted bars. Slim was leaning against one side of the railing, already in easy conversation with some of the monsters closest to him. After a moment Papyrus moved to the other side, standing and wishing he still had the hoodie- (god, that felt so odd to say)- if only to hide the faint tremor of his bare phalanges.

The monsters closest to him were shouting obscenities, what the results of the fight would be…

Things they would do with his dust.

He didn’t bother to turn around, kept his gaze forward and arms folded behind his back even as he felt his bones start to rattle softly. It wasn’t like it was just him. Across the ring- because it really was surprisingly small, which he supposed had many benefits- the monsters were shouting similar things at Slim. Instead of standing there, Slim was shouting back, laughing and joking and sending threats back from the way that they came. He seemed shockingly at ease.

Another shrill whistle, loud and commanding enough to quiet most of the shouts and leers. The bunny from earlier walked in, ears pressed flat against her head and gaze cold. She looked around the edge of the ring, her glare quieting most of the remaining noise. 

“Place your bets now,” she said. Her arms were crossed over her chest, bare. There were patches of fur missing from some places, small slits of scar tissue crossing in random spots. Around the area, a few monsters that seemed more than oblivious to the nights events started moving, going up to the others and grabbing bills or gold. Papyrus watched them as they moved, eyes flicking down to their hands.

Scarred by fire.

He looked away, focusing on the rabbit now in the center. She was talking to the crowd itself, giving rules. No interfering with the fight. No bets after the fight starts. Despite her size and appearance relative to most of the monsters in the room, the way she carried herself forced a sense of respect.

She looked at Papyrus, and then at Slim, before motioning them both to her. He moved, walking forwards until he was only a foot or so away from Slim, looking into the other’s eyes. Slim blinked. His brow furrowed. “M’sorry,” he muttered, barely loud enough for Papyrus to hear him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered back.

The rabbit between them looked back and forth, confusion on her face. Whatever she was thinking wasn’t important enough to hold onto for long as she soon stepped back, saying loud enough for the whole room to hear. “No headbutting, no biting, and no attacks! Keep it clean!”

The cheering started up louder as she turned and walked away, staying inside the ring, just against the edge. There was a pause, tension. Another blaring whistle.

Slim was on him before it even ended, tucked down and slamming into his sides. The crowd cheered. Catching himself, Papyrus rolled to the side, using a hand on the other’s back to shove him as far away as he could. He was off balance for a moment before he turned, hands up and ready one more.

He took in a deep breath, trying not to wince at the pain the stretch gave. Bruised for sure. As he brought his hands up in defense, ignoring the strain, the shouts of the crowd around them got louder, cheers and shouts that mixed together until he wasn’t sure who was rooting for whom. He met Slim’s eyes over his hands, elbows tucked in to cover his ribcage. The other only stared back at him. He took a step to the side, making sure to keep his distance as Slim circled him.

Another rush. He was prepared for it this time, rolling to the side just as Slim’s hand moved through the air where he once was. He dropped his guard, though, not expecting Slim to bring his leg around, shin catching him in the side. He pushed back. Another strike against his ribs, knocking the breath out of him. The crowd cheered.

There was no way out of the fight. He had to hit back.

Papyrus swallowed, taking in a deep breath as Slim walked towards him again, prepared this time. He’d fought with Undyne enough. As his arm struck through the air he let it graze him, using the proximity to hit back. He was used to hitting flesh during his spars with Undyne, not just bone, and so the first hit sent a shock up his arm, fist connecting with Slim’s temple. It sent him stumbling a few steps, but he quickly caught his balance, turning to face him and dropping further, keeping his center of gravity low.

It went like that for a while, a hit here and there. Nothing too harsh, nothing too violent. Papyrus had no idea how long it was supposed to go on, if there was a time or some kind of point system, or if it was just until they were too tired to continue. Around the edge of the fence, he could see a few of the monsters from earlier come up against the outer rim, all grabbing onto the bars. The distraction was enough for Slim to lunge at him, easily knocking him to the ground.

Before he could do anything the other pulled back enough, the blur of wrapped bone barely processed before his fist slammed into his face once, twice, three times. Papyrus brought his knees under the other, kicking and pushing him back, rolling to his feet before he could be tackled again.

Warmth trickled down his face. Keeping one hand in front of him, curled loosely into a fist, he brought the other up to his face, wiping above his mouth. Red. The sight of the marrow leaking from his nose brought up a cheer from the other monsters. He looked around, vision slightly blurred but starting to clear. There was a shrill whistle. The monsters around the fence picked the sections up, moving them in with the scrape of metal against concrete. It closed in around them, getting smaller. Two of the monsters disconnected their section, pulling it away.

He turned and looked at Slim. Unreadable.

The fencing behind him bumped into his back, forcing him to take a step forward. The crowd shouted, yelled.

It would keep getting smaller, he realized. He swallowed, ignoring the trickle down his face, the marrow he could feel dripping into his teeth, separating and spreading in the grooves. He moved forward and Slim mirrored his motions. He struck a fist out, easy to dodge, watching Slim slip to the side and move to parry. He grabbed his arm as it struck him in the side, yanking him forward and bringing his left arm around as he stepped to the side, slamming it into his spine.

Slim grunted but said nothing besides that, stumbling before catching his balance. The other turned and looked at him. A flicker of shock passed across his eyes.

He wouldn’t go down that easy.

Slim moved to the side, balance low. He struck quicker, now. Ribs. Spine. Jaw. Papyrus kept his arms tucked in, almost hunched over, doing his best to defend against the flurry, to wait for an opportunity.

He struck back. It was hard to describe, quick, brutal. It was obvious how it happened but it was still a shock because Slim spit to the side with a mix of magic and marrow, the area around his socket bruised and darkened and the eyelight there flickering. 

Something in his eyes changed. They were blank before but now they were scared. Desperate. Papyrus brought his hands down slightly in shock at the expression, tension leaving his body and being replaced by horror. Blood dripped down his chin, stark red against the bone. He did this.

Slim rushed him, tackled him to the ground. Papyrus barely had time to snap back into the fight, to lift his hands and arms up to cover his face before blows rained down on him, slamming his head side to side. Pain struck one side and then the other, back and forth. He tried to kick the other off but Slim was pinning his legs down, keeping him from moving. The next blow made his vision fade to black, only for a moment. He looked above his hands, barely able to meet Slim’s gaze with flickering eyelights, and the other stopped, fist still raised in the air.

He pushed him off, stumbling and getting up from the floor, Slim slowly doing the same. He wiped his face, ignoring the pain that throbbed in time with his soul. The crowd was whistling, cheering, but it was all background noise to him. 

… 

He couldn’t let Slim do this.

Head clear, he rushed the other. Slim went to step to the side but he grabbed him, easily lifting him in the air and bringing him over his shoulder, slamming him down on the floor. Slim groaned, starting to get up.

Papyrus remembered being in the same position once, sparring with Undyne, bruised and on his hands and knees. In that moment, he did what she had done, taking his elbow and slamming it into the back of Slim’s neck. The forced knocked him back to the ground.

He laid there, unmoving.

The cheering stopped for a moment. Or, maybe, it hadn’t, because everything seemed almost blurry and muted. The rabbit from earlier stepped into the ring and walked over to where Slim was laying. He watched as she knelt down, looking over Slim, before she stood, yelling to the crowd. 

“He’s out.”

More silence. A few cheers and laughs broke out, but a majority of the crowd cursed at him, angrily kicking the railing as they backed away, making it scrape on the concrete or ring hollowly with the force. The rabbit motioned at Slim and Papyrus watched as a monster came up, hefting Slim over their shoulders before making their way out of the bar. The rabbit looked over her shoulder and nodded her head to the back door he had come from. Papyrus hesitated before he followed, ignoring the majority of the glares and curses that were sent his way.

Before he walked into the room he looked back over his shoulder, sensing a gaze that felt different than the glares of the monsters that had lost money on him. It was Grillby staring at him with a smile that, from the looks of it, seemed pleasant. He shuddered, turning away, relieved when the door cut the gaze off. 

The rabbit walked over to the table in the middle, giving the bird monster laying on it a harsh smack. “Off,” she said.

They opened an eye, looking at her, before they groaned, turning and sliding off to slink to a corner. She turned to Papyrus. “Sit down.”

He listened, hopping up with only a small wince, holding his hand out for her when she motioned for it. A pair of scissors was produced from thin air- her inventory, apparently- which she used to cut a slit in the wrap on his palm, branching out and easily slicing it from his hand. The other followed suit and she set the discarded wrap to the side, scissors disappearing once more. “Take your shirt off.” 

He hesitated but did as she asked, wincing slightly as the action made his ribs stretch against the bruises. Her hands moved skillfully, checking over his form, handing him a wet piece of gauge and gesturing to his face. He used to to wipe under his nose, across his teeth, over his sockets. It came away red. She sighed as he set it to the side, pressing her hands together. Green magic started to glow between her palms, peeking out between her fingers and the fur, a soft, twisting color. He held still as she brought her hands to the chest, waiting for the magic to restore the small amount of HP he’d lost during the fight.

The first touch of the magic made him jerk away despite the strain on his body. It was cold, it was horrible. It was stupid, really, to think everything would be the same but green magic was supposed to be  _ kindness, _ defence, but this was cold and clinical, his entire body locking up. Even when she pulled her hands away, magic fading from her hands, the feeling stayed. Cold. Uncaring. He shuddered and swallowed, the foreign magic churning in his soul.

He felt like vomiting.

“You too, huh?”

Papyrus blinked, looking at her and giving a shaky smile. “W-what?”

Another sigh. She only shook her head before going back to her work. The door to the room opened, another monster walking in and making their way to the side, sitting against the floor. When they entered her ears swiveled on her head, pointing to them, before they slowly faced forward once more. He was so distracted by the monster he didn’t notice what she was doing until she grabbed his arm, an old needle in her other hand.

He yanked his arm away, keeping it close to his chest. “What are you doing?”

She looked at him for a moment before she grunted, setting it to the side. “Dope. Force of habit.”

Papyrus looked at her and then moved his gaze to the syringe. The needle seemed sharp, but was bent slightly where it connected to the body of the syringe, jutting out at an angle. It had been used before. It seemed far larger than the needles he had seen before, not exactly longer but wider.

A light smack against his arm drew his attention once more. “Get moving.” He blinked before sliding from his perch, pulling his shirt back over his head and taking the hoodie back out of his inventory. “And hon?” He stopped halfway through putting it on, covering his arms but not yet over his head. She stared at him again, her ears twitching once. “Be careful.”

He nodded, watching her move to the side to check on the other monsters. He pulled the hoodie over his head, yanking down the rim of it to ensure that it was straight before he walked out. 

If he’d thought he’d gotten stares before it was nothing compared to now, walking to the exit through the bar. Most of them were glares, were faces twisted into snarls and sneers. It made sense, of course. For someone new to come in, to manage to win in a fight… He had to have cost them all a lot of money.

He reached up and tugged his hood over his head, feeling slightly better once he saw the edge of the cloth in the corner of his vision. Before he could leave, Grillby walked up, mouth dripping in a smile. 

***Congratulations on winning.**

His voice was a low purr in his mind. It sent a shudder down his spine. He shoved down the reaction, opting to smile. “Thanks.”

He tried to step to the side- the exit was just  _ there, _ he could check on Slim and then they could get out of there, curfew or no, because there was no way he was letting the other spend any longer here than he had to- but Grillby stuck out an arm, stopping him. For a moment, anxiety shot through his soul, but it quickly faded when he saw the paper card held between two of the other’s fingers, held out to him. How it didn’t catch on fire was beyond him.

As he watched, a thin arc of flame sparked from the tips of his fingers, dragging along the paper and leaving a smoking trail of burnt-in text behind it. The area started to smell like smoke.

***I really have to thank you. You made me a large deal of money tonight.** The card was pointed insistently at him and so he took it, Grillby’s arm dropping soon after.  ***Feel free to come back anytime.**

Papyrus nodded, tucking his head down and finally moving past, down into the long hallway and away from the noise and the crowd and the threats. He made his way to where Slim was, pushing open the door with his shoulder and looking down at the other. He was awake now, bandaged with his face twisted into a grin. Papyrus looked to the floor where the bag, spoon, and needle were laying out on the ground, haphazardly scattered on the floor. He nudged them with his foot, kicking and pushing until they were under the bed, hidden from his sight.

He bent down, the movement bringing back to mind the bruises on his sides. “Slim?” Nothing. In an effort for an answer he reached out and shook the other’s shoulder. “Slim, we need to go.”

He turned and looked at him then. Papyrus tried to ignore the magic over his cheekbones, how his eyelight was nearly gone as his magic moved over the injury, repairing it. Guilt built in his soul. 

“Oh, hey Paps.” His words were slow, drawn out. The grin stretched wider on his face, surprisingly genuine, and then suddenly dropped. “Hey, m’sorry for punching you in the face.”

It was serious, and he knew he shouldn’t, but despite that fact he laughed, slightly more strained than it usually was, but still. It was a laugh, and it almost felt good. “It’s… it’s okay.” It wasn’t but, to be fair, he’d knocked the other unconscious. At this point they were fairly even.

He looked over the other, laid out on the filthy bed. One of the pockmarks in his arm had a thin trail of marrow trickling out of it, mostly stopped at the moment. With a sigh he pulled out his phone, sending a text to Razz. The shorter was their best way out of here.

A hand wrapped around his own and he put his phone down enough to look at Slim, his eyes still hazy but face serious. “I really am sorry,” he murmured, quiet to the point of unintelligibility.

He sighed and took his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** violence, graphic violence, drug use, no one fucking likes grillby, unhealthy relationships(????? kinda)
> 
> im reluctant to tag that last one but honestly DONT beat your potential romantic partner up it is an UNKIND thing to do
> 
> bitchin'


	14. twinkle twinkle little bitch, why the fuck you such a dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the protagonist doesnt die in this one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> papyrus said FUCK the police

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough for his leg to start bouncing anxiously and for him to start feeling like he needed to stand, to stretch his legs. The room was too small to pace in, of course, and he wouldn’t even if it was. Slim’s hand was still wrapped around his own, and though at first the grip was tight he was certain that he wasn’t even aware it was still happening. His thumb ran small paths on the back of his hands, the tip of his claw ticking over each bone on the back of his hand. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that they were back at his house, one of their group’s chaotic game or movie nights over, sitting on the couch and waiting for everyone to leave.

Almost.

Even with his sockets shut- (only cracked, really, and he was unfortunately starting to understand just why their Fell-verse counterparts were so paranoid when even being almost alone in room prompted a feeling of anxiety)- the smell was different, the musk of smoke and damp concrete. He sighed again once the movements of the other’s hand stopped, looking around the empty room. 

Why hadn’t Razz responded yet?

He pulled out his phone, not sure what to plan on aside from sending another text or calling him or  _ something, _ but when he turned it on the only notification was that the message didn’t send. 

Typical. 

Fighting the urge to stamp his foot in frustration, he stood, slightly shaking Slim by the shoulder even though he was already awake. One socket opened, and then the other, before he closed them both with a groan. “Five more minutes.”

Papyrus hooked an arm behind his shoulders, under his back, pulling and lifting him up until he was standing, albeit leaning heavily on him and fake-sobbing. “You promised,” he said, and at that the fake tears stopped and Slim stood on his own with a sigh. 

“That I did.” He stooped, snatching the bag from under his bed before Papyrus could stop him, squinting at it for a few moments before it disappeared into his inventory. 

He started to make his way to the door but Papyrus reached an arm out and stopped him, looking over his form with concern. Despite everything he was taking this surprisingly well, but he kept thinking of that thin trail of magic that no one had bothered to wipe away, travelling from a small pockmark in his ulna and dripping onto his radius from the space between the bones. “Are you okay?”

“Nah,” he said, grinning. Usually they would go back and forth, he would roll his eyes and Slim would laugh and say something more ridiculous, but he couldn’t bother now, looking down at the spot on his arm. Slim caught his gaze, sighed, pulled his jacket from his inventory and used the sleeve to scrub away the drying magic, tugging it on after. “I’m fine,” he said, firmer this time.

With a shrug he tucked his hands in his pockets, the picture of casual calm. Papyrus wanted to argue with him but found himself too tired to do even that. Instead he stated the obvious, that Slim wasn’t sober. It only netted him a sigh and the swipe of a hand down his face. 

“Only barely.” The grin was back as he stepped around him, yanking the door open. “I’ve got a pretty high tolerance for the stuff.”

It wasn’t entirely convincing, but aside from the slight haze of his sockets Slim seemed about as he normally did, expression the same, easy grin as always. The slight staccato of his foot against the ground as he tapped it was the only sound, but even that wasn’t entirely out of normal. With a sigh he agreed, nodding his head and following Slim out of the room, down the same hallway, away from the stained mattress and cigarette holes.

There weren’t many monsters that they saw on their way to the stairs, most seeming to be focused down the hall at what he assumed was the “main attraction.” Briefly Papyrus found himself wondering how something like that was staying open and hidden given that it was in the same place every time. Given the violent nature of the monsters here, kindness and forgiveness snuffed out, he didn’t wonder for long. They made their way up the stairs and then they were in the alley, shrouded in shadow. Papyrus pulled out his phone, deciding to call Razz instead, watching from the corner of his eye as Slim pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket, rolling one between his fingers.

“You know it’s not safe up here, right?”

Papyrus looked over but Slim wasn’t looking at him, gaze focused on the cig in his hand. He flicked it in the air, caught it and held it in two fingers. “I just need signal.” He held up his phone as proof. “To call Razz.”

There was a pause. Slim groaned, head falling back to hit against the wall he was leaning on with a dull thunk. The sound made Papyrus wince, but Slim didn’t react to it one way or the other. “Fuck, man. He’s gonna be pissed at me.”

He clicked on Razz’s contact, holding it to the side of his head as it started to ring. “I think he got most of his anger out of his system when he bludgeoned me earlier this morning.”

Slim snorted but quickly covered his mouth, looking to the side. Papyrus pretended not to notice.

The phone picked up on the third ring. 

“State your business.”

He blinked, paused for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s… Papyrus?”

No response. He checked the phone again, thinking maybe the signal had cut out- and after everything that had happened tonight, he wouldn’t be surprised at his luck- but Slim grabbed the phone from him before he could, clicking speaker and leaning over the microphone. 

“Hey, mom? Could you pick me up, I’m scared.”

Another pause.

Across the line he heard the shuffling of papers. “...Damn. I wasn’t sure you would actually be able to convince him.”

The admission made him frown. “Then why would you let me come in the first place!”

“Not important.” He could practically see the dismissive wave of his hand. “Where are you?”

He glanced at Slim. The other cleared his throat. “We’re in the alleyway by Grillby’s.”

It was quiet again. The hiss of a car driving down the street made them both tense, waiting until the sound of it faded out to relax. The speaker of the phone crackled with air. Razz must have sighed. “Am I on speakerphone right now?”

Was it a trick question? “...Maybe?”

A growl. Wrong answer, then. “Papyrus, you fucking dumbass.”

Slim chuckled, but he seemed nervous. “Are you talking to him or me?”

“Yes.”

They looked at each other and then back at the phone. Clicking it off speaker, Papyrus held it up to the side of his skull.

“There’s a bus stop down the road,” Razz continued. “Stick to the shadows.”

There was a click, and then the call cut off with a beep. Papyrus hung up on his end, sighing as he tucked it back into his pocket. For a long moment, they both just stood there, waiting for the other to move. Slim rolled his head on his shoulders, a barely-there wince pulling his features before it was gone. “Where we headed?”

Papyrus pushed the thought to the back of his mind-  **_he_ ** _ was the one who caused that, this time, what the hell was wrong with him, he spent so much time trying to keep Slim from being hurt, from hurting himself, and just- _ “A bus station nearby.”

Slim grunted, pulling the hood over his head. Papyrus did the same, following after him as he walked toward the alley entrance opposite the one he’d come in from. They stopped just before exiting onto the sidewalk, Slim looking around the area. He cursed, backing away and grabbing his arm, pulling him back into the darkness. “Slim, what-”

“There’s a cop out there,” he explained before he could finish, still looking into the street. Papyrus frowned, furrowing his brow, but anything he would have said stopped on his tongue as Slim sighed, muttering something about “making things difficult” under his breath before he turned to him with a grin. “Looks like we’re running.”

With that, Slim turned back to the entrance. “Try to keep up,” he whispered, voice hoarse with some kind of excitement in it.

There was a moment where Papyrus thought maybe, just  _ maybe, _ Slim was bluffing, that there was no way he would sprint headfirst into a situation that could potentially be  _ deadly, _ right? But, of course, he was looking at the situation with logic. Silly him.

Slim bolted out into the street, and there was a split second where Papyrus tried to decide if he would run or back out before he followed after, legs moving at the breakneck speed that Slim had set. Behind him came a shout, an order to stop, but he didn’t slow down, even as he followed Slim around the street corner, dashing in and out of the light of streetlamps down the cracked sidewalk. Slim glanced over his shoulder and saw him, gave a crazed laugh and an excited shout, even as sirens started sounding off in the distance.

Papyrus sucked in a deep breath before doubling his pace, falling beside Slim. His arms were pumping fast, bruises over his bones aching as magic flooded his bones. “Slim!” He yelled, panicked.

The sounds of sirens were getting closer. “Right!” He yelled in return. Papyrus almost tripped over himself as Slim changed directions, sprinting across the street, and with an anxious glance down the road he followed.

Before the brick of the building blocked his sight, he saw flashes of red and blue round the corner. 

“Up ahead!” Slim shouted. Papyrus pushed himself faster, ignoring the aches in his ribs and arms.

The bus station was dimly lit, just a metal and plastic covering over an old bench, but the sight of it was a relief. Slim suddenly stopped in front of him, a few feet from the station, and without time to slow down he slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground. From the shadows he heard a curse and opened his sockets just in time to see the car whipping around the corner before everything went black with a pop.

Papyrus had always hated the feeling of teleports. It was like falling into darkness, all of his senses gone yet being assaulted at the same time. He could feel a hand on his back and something underneath of him, but aside from that there was nothing. Nausea built in his soul as he hovered in nothingness for what seemed like hours.

He slammed into the ground with a groan, blinking his sockets rapidly at the soft light of the house. Looking up he saw Razz, arms crossed over his chest and face set into an angry scowl. Papyrus forced himself to his feet, arms stretched out to the side and stance wide as he fought to reorient himself after the teleport. After a moment the dizziness passed and he straightened fully, still out of breath and magic still thumping from their mad dash from the bar. 

Razz was the first to speak. “What the  _ fuck _ were you thinking?!”

Papyrus flinched at the volume in the relative silence of the room, glancing down at where Slim was laying. The other only waved his hand, dismissive, not bothering to move. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a dumbass. I’ve already had my ass kicked once tonight, thank you.”

Razz looked up at him, eyelights flicking over his form before his glare moved back down to Slim. “Very funny.”

“We established a long time ago that you don’t find anything I say funny,” Slim quipped back, sitting up. 

The room was suddenly tense, more so than it had been when he’d woken up from his involuntary nap. Glancing at the door, he started to inch his way out of the room.

“You let  _ him _ beat you?!” Razz seemed almost disgusted by the fact. “I trained you better than this.”

_ “You _ didn’t train me,” Slim snapped back, “you hunted me down and forced me into the Guard.”

“I was trying to protect you!” Razz spat.

The room suddenly seemed much smaller than it had any real right to. Were there not bars over the windows he would have already jumped out of them. As it was, he’d had enough head trauma for one night.

Slim scoffed out a laugh, laying back down with a groan. “Yeah. And you did an  _ excellent _ job.”

Papyrus cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention away from each other. The animosity filling the room was beginning to get a little stifling. “Well! If we’re all done here then I will just be going!”

He turned to leave but before he could get far his soul was captured in magic, locking his limbs and forcing him to still. “Don’t.” Razz said.

The magic holding him dispersed, but Papyrus didn’t bother to move. Whatever violent energy that had so quickly came already left. He watched as Razz walked to where Slim was laying, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him to his feet. Slim yelped, stumbled a few steps, but caught himself, turning over his shoulder to glare at his brother. It was unlikely that Razz didn’t notice it, but he definitely didn’t care, chin tilting up and arms crossing in return.

The back door rang out with a staccato of knocks, quick and panicked, but before he had much time to even turn around the air rippled with the sound of a teleport, air displacing as a faint ripping sound was heard. The scent of ozone filled his senses as he looked to see Sans, his left eye flashing blue and yellow, features tight and sweat dotting his brow. He blinked as Sans moved quicker than he’d really ever seen him move, nearly knocking him over as he wrapped his arms around his waist.

Papyrus flinched but hugged him back, wanting to hit himself for his stupidity. Ever since they’d gotten to the surface Sans would become near-panicked if he was afraid something would happen to him, saying he was ‘afraid to lose something’ now that everything was okay. Guilt rolled him his soul. He really should have known better, but Sans would have wanted to go with him if he told him the truth. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t.

With a shaky breath Sans stepped away, eye no longer flashing from exertion but eyelights still dilated and trembling. His grin was tense, hands visibly shaking before he tucked them into his pockets. “Mind giving us some privacy?”

Papyrus looked between Razz and Slim. Slim reached up, scratching the back of his skull before shuffling out of view. Razz rolled his eyes but followed suit.

“Papyrus, what were you thinking?” There was a strain in his voice.

He sighed. “I was thinking that my best friend was in trouble.”

“You could have been killed!” 

Papyrus didn’t look at him. “But I wasn’t,” he murmured. He didn’t bother to say that he was more than capable of handling himself, knowing how upset Sans already was.

“Papyrus, this is serious.” His voice broke when he said his name.

A seed of guilt worked into his soul. He sighed. “I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing anymore.”

Sans was quiet for a long moment. A glance up showed that he was shaking, slightly, hardly even noticeable if he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Seeing Sans so bothered, so shaken, when he was used to his brother being calm, always with a smile, was… 

“I’m sorry, Sans.”

The apology was enough to move his brother back into action, letting out a soft breath. He looked up at Papyrus, but whatever expression that was on his face snapped into an annoyed grin, looking to the side. “Really?”

Papyrus glanced to where Sans was staring, Razz very obviously leaning against the doorframe with Slim peering out above him. At their gaze, Slim’s sockets widened and he pulled away, slowly backing out of view.

“To be fair,” he said, unbothered at being caught- though, maybe he was, it was really hard to tell considering that the only real expression he ever made was one of anger- “this is my house.”

Sans glanced up at him but he shrugged in response. Technically, he was right, no matter how rude it was. Besides, he was fairly certain that the definitions of “rude” in a Fellverse were limited to physical attacks only. It was silent for a long moment. Papyrus wasn’t sure what to say, and he was pretty sure that no one else did either.

With a fake cough into his hand, Sans broke the silence. “Well, we should, uh. Probably get home.”

The exhaustion from the day finally started to weigh on his shoulders, his limbs feeling heavy. “Yes,” he agreed. After a pause, he looked to the Swapfell brothers.

Slim was back in view but his gaze was fixed to the side, refusing to meet his own. He was rocking back and forth on his feet, heel to toe, hands clasped behind his back. Papyrus pretended the lack of acknowledgement didn’t bother him. 

“I suppose we’ll see you later!” His gaze flicked down to Razz as he said this. The other stared at him and, after a moment, tilted his head the slightest bit forward. Papyrus knew it was really the best he would get in terms of thanks, and for that much he was grateful.

They left without much fanfare. Neither brother walked them to the machine- not that he really expected them to- and the walk across the yard was quick. He only briefly glanced at the ground where he’d been taken down earlier before they were in the shed. A few seconds later and they were gone, stepping across that frigid space and back to their own home where the air felt different against his bones. Less stiff, somehow, back in the place where he knew he belonged.

He must have stood there for a second too long because Sans coughed again despite his lack of lungs, looking up at him. “You okay, Pap?”

“I will be,” he said, the first real truth he’d said in a while.

It was odd coming home. The house was the same. Everything was the same, really, uncaring about their travel across dimensions or anything else that happened. In a way, it was comical, and he felt a smile stretch on his face.

“Asgore said you could have the next few days off,” Sans said when they were halfway across the yard. He wanted to argue but found that he couldn’t. In all honesty, there was nothing more he wanted than to lay down and maybe not deal with anyone for a day or three. He murmured his thanks, ignoring the sharp stab of guilt because if Sans had contacted the king himself, then how worried had he been?

They were almost to the back door when they heard the familiar sound of the machine starting up, a muffled tearing sound coming from inside the shed. The door creaked open a few seconds later. The real shock came when Slim stepped out onto the grass, the door swinging shut behind him as he stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, gaze focused on the ground. When it became clear he wasn’t going anywhere, Papyrus waved for Sans to go inside. He only smiled at the concerned look his brother gave him. 

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered. Sans gave him a look like he didn’t believe him- and, really, that was wise- but went into the house anyways.

When Slim made no move to come closer he walked away from the light that was spilling from the windows, stopping a pace away from the other. More silence greeted him. He looked up at the sky, glancing between the stars. Sans had pointed out the constellations to him once, nonsensical shapes that made up myths and legends decorating the night sky. He hadn’t really listened, focusing more on the sky as a whole, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember a single one of them.

Slim finally moved, a hand swiping down his face and breaking the still between them. “What is this.” He said. It sounded tired and confused.

After a moment he answered. “I think the humans call it ‘grass,’ Slim.” He stared at the blades between them with a small grin. 

Slim sighed. “No, I-” He paused, and then snorted, loud, shaking his head with a smile on his face. “Okay, actually? That was pretty good. Props to you.”

The amusement made him puff up in pride, grin stretching wider. “Thank you!”

Another pause. Slim looked up at him, and though the trace of humor was still there, it was mostly serious. “What is  _ this.” _ At the emphasis of the word he gestured between them, the motion almost violent. Papyrus shifted his weight between his feet, hands going to sling in his own pocket.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. Slim snorted again, but this time it was harsher, colder.

“I guess we’re both dumb bastards, huh?”

Papyrus sighed. “I guess so,” he said, quiet.

They stayed that way for a while. He looked back up at the sky, at the confusing dots strewn in what seemed like random patterns above, a puzzle that, for once, he didn’t feel like solving.

“I don’t think I can stop,” Slim said.

“I know,” he said.

They stood and he stared at the sky.

“Do you want to come inside?”

There was a moment where he thought Slim wouldn’t answer, where he would turn around and walk back into the shed.

“Sure,” he muttered, and though the tone was casual it felt anything but.

They walked into the house. The stars shone above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow man. almost at the end here! the chapter changed dramatically in tone because i wrote 75% in one sitting and then didnt get that sexy bitch called inspiration back until about 3 days ago. (keep in mind that i wrote said 75% about a month ago)
> 
> in other news, i plan on moving almost all of my writing on tumblr to ao3 within the next few millenia so be sure to keep an eye out for that!
> 
> (if youre not already following me on tumblr then youre not missing out of anything important and youre arguably more intelligent than stephen hawkins, who is dead and is unable to vouch for his own IQ so no one can prove otherwise)

**Author's Note:**

> bitch at me on [tumblr](https://ollie-oxen-free.tumblr.com/)


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